





COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



i'r, n 


rA4i 


t 1 f 


W:h‘ 


•’■:> . ’-tf 


M 


1 t i 


f’rJL 




rMfAl 






ii’ 




* • 


'fc' 


S; 




I I 


> • 




> A 




iV 


4 ^ i 


w 


'V 


^ 2 ' 


%K 


:f> 


'ij 


>( • 




» ,: <' 


m 


^ *<}. 


. » « 


■hfi 


■aJ: 




V t 


r->;, 


k- > V. 




it 




>') 


% 


3 


> .>'1 1>'4' * 








f- i 




' ^ Ti 


'/V\i 


y % 


t » 


sw 


).*i 


* i 




f\ 




11 ^, 


1 r 








pH^ 




'Ufv- 


V 


r 


r* ’ 




• < 




I 






.-.A 


iT'! V 




• Wl 




a 


( » 


‘'r 


» /■ 


A 






//■ 








• i I 




f-M 




k . I 


\ ’ 


..‘V’< ■ 


■'STiVlilCi* i’' * v-’il'' » 


w-c 


^4 


‘fi't *, 


•r* 


* • • 


«• 


.' * 


' 'i.7i‘^ii'.fv.-,^f v> ■^J(. 


'. ‘il 


.* 




V *< 




it\ » ! 


it« 


' / 


!Vm. 


S.i 


/ ■• . 


7 ^ 




yj 


')^,r 

vVx^T m:^\n r>A 


' ■;;> 
' I-,' 4 '' 


t . i 


* . w'A ' ‘« 

* • . ‘ - 


7SV* 




i I. i\ 


( ' > ^fr 

2 ^. , ■ ,■> ». .'■' v/;’ iv. 


> -I 




i: 


»• 




• ’ 'I Afiri; '•' ’i ft'\'‘'» '• 
♦. r . , . A' , » - ' f . f ■ 


11 1 


•■X 


in 


:t « , 


TV '■ ■■ Jh 

A’ '^Vv , 


1 ' 


.iMiVi 


« . t 


^ I 


'1 .V) 


r; 


W 


- ; .r ■ 


f * 


iu S 


1 i, 


1 / 


M 


T > 


* *«. 


» .1 


>.< 




A‘l 






**1 


'»?'.• I 


» .V 






• 1 / 




' 1 / 


l*»_ 


3 






» 


iK? 




■ » • » 


• Ml 


• r ,« 




k- I • 




ti •: 


% 


“ti 


t 


i'. 'I 


L< . .1 


■f, '.!• 


I » 


» I 


1 V .1 




ff lA 




^ ^pn 

■■ ■ 






• 4 K 






■ • I 


' .M ,V' 


im 


•.■ I 


w' 


' j 




t A 






<\?r 


^ 0'^y 


1 ‘ . 






m 




\'i 


(*' M . M 


/. 





\ «r • ^ < 


I 4 




■ -» 






h'.‘- 




''■V ^ ^ J t ■ 

■ • ''! ' ! 'ax 4 : -# 



























\ 


THE CAMP BY COPPER RIVER 

I 




V 






BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

The Marks of the Bear Claws. i z"'o> cloth, 
with frontispiece . $o,%^ 

Thrilling and mysterious, enlightening and instructive. It 
deals with the journey of Father Marquette, Joliet, and 
several companions over unknown waters in quest of 
the Mississippi. How their expedition is crowned with 
success, after many adventures in which the marks of 
the bear claws play the leading part, is graphically 
narrated. 

The Race for Copper Island. * 2mo. cloth, 
with frontispiece 0.85 

A sterling story for the young. Keeps the excitement 
going from page to page. Historical and instructive. 
Father Spalding grasps the up-to-date idea in his stories, 
so charming and interesting. — Pittsburgh Catholic. 

The Cave by the Beech Fork. i2mo, cloth, 
with frontispiece 0,85 

This is a story full of “go.” The adventures are plenti- 
ful, and will appeal to boys. In no part is it dull; the 
scenes throughout have the great merit of originality. 

The Sheriff of the Beech Fork. i2mo, 

cloth, with frontispiece 0. 8 5 

This book deserves a cordial welcome from the lover of 
sound juvenile literature. From the outset the reader’s 
attention is captivated, and never lags a moment through- 
out the entire story. The arrival of the coach, the build- 
ing and unloading of the raft, the trip down the 
Ohio and Mississippi to New Orleans, are naturally and 
vividly described. — Iowa Catholic Messenger. 

The Old Mill on the Withrose. 1 2 mo, cloth, 
with three full-page illustrations . . . . 0.85 

The plot of the work is artfully reserved, and the reader 
is carried from page to page and from chapter to chap- 
ter in breathless suspense until the last is reached, when 
the whole is happily revealed. — The Patrician. 

The Sugar Camp and After. i2mo, cloth, 

with three full-page illustrations . . . . 0.85 

The adventures of Raymond Bolt, from the streets of 
Chicago to the sugar-camp and fields of the Blue Grass 
Country, fill many an interesting and instructive page. 
Much. can be learned from this book, and the learning is 
decidedly pleasant. — The Ffirdham Monthly. 







“up from the river came a cry and a call for help." 


— PAGE 72. 


wtj'' 

4 



THE 

CAMP BY COPPER RIVER 


BY 


Rev. HENRY 




SPALDING, SJ. 


Author of “The Old Mill on the Withrose,” “The Race 
for Copper Island,” etc. 


New York, Cincinnati, Chicago 

BENZIGER BROTHERS 

PRINTERS TO THE I PUBLISHERS OF 
HOLY APOSTOLIC SEE | BENZIGER’S MAGAZINE 


1915 



Copyright, 1915, by Benziger Brothers 



t . 


CONTENTS 


Chapter I 

'‘Hogan's Flop" 


PAGI 

• 7 

Chapter II 

Boys but not Friends 


. 19 

Chapter III 

The Governor 


• 30 

Chapter IV 
Hard to Make a Choice 


. 42 

Chapter V 
Bound for the Pine Forest . 


• SO 

Chapter VI 

The Camp 


• 59 

Chapter VII 

Every One His Own Way . 

, , 

. 69 

Chapter VIII 

The First Message .... 


• 79 

Chapter IX 

Young Hunters 

5 


. 89 


6 


Contents 


Chapter X page 

The Trout Stream 98 

Chapter XI 

The Man from Down the River . . .108 

Chapter XII 

When Wild Met Wild 120 

Chapter XIII 

George Rivers Again 127 

Chapter XIV 

When the Wireless Was Needed . . .135 

Chapter XV 

Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing . . . .146 

Chapter XVI 

Fun and a Visit 157 

Chapter XVII 

The Pirates 167 

Chapter XVIII 

Within the Winter Cabin 175 

Chapter XIX 

The Copper from Copper River . . .185 


The Camp by Copper River 


CHAPTER I 
‘‘Hogan’s Flop’' 

*‘T’VE got one for you.” That was the mes- 
X sage over the telephone. No explanation 
was given; none was needed. 

What was it this “one,” this indifferent thing? 
Was it a thing of life? With or without life, 
it seemed to have little value with the man who 
sent the message. Was it a trifle, a toy, a dog? 
It was simply “one.” Yes, but that word “one” 
had a meaning for Father Lilly, who received 
the message. The rough voice, the late hour, 
the dread, zero weather — all these were parts of 
the message. The priest prepared to go at once 
and look after the nameless “one”; but before 
he could leave the room the telephone rang a 
second time. 


7 


8 ''Hogan's Flop" 

‘‘Have you room for a boy to-night?’^ came 
the inquiry. 

“Yes, for ten — as many as there are in the 
city.” 

“Can I come with him at once?” 

“Yes, yes.” 

“ril be there in half an hour.” 

“Walk in and wait for me in the office. I am 
going out for a short time.” With these words 
Father Lilly put on his heavy coat and went out 
into the street. At six o’clock the thermometer 
had registered twelve below zero; it was proba- 
bly lower now, and down Jackson Street swept 
a wind that cut like steel. After walking half 
a block the priest returned, put a light overcoat 
under his heavier one, pulled his cap over his 
ears, and started off again. 

Ten minutes brought Father Lilly to Halsted 
and West Madison Streets. Night or day, these 
avenues of trade and pleasure are crowded; but 
the extreme cold had driven pleasure-seekers 
within doors and the streets were all but deserted. 

“Shoe-strings, sir, just five cents so I can get a 
bed to-night.” 


^‘Hogan^s Flop'* 


9 


Father Lilly looked at the lame, shriveled 
creature, whose pinched and wrinkled face was 
neither that of a man nor boy. He wore but a 
light coat and no gloves. 

“My boy, you will freeze here,” were the 
words of pity. 

“No, sir, I run into the saloon and warm up 
every few minutes.” 

“Come here,” said the priest, whose heart was 
touched. In the shadow of a door he quickly re- 
moved his heavy coat, took off the lighter one 
and put it on the shivering stranger. “Take 
these gloves,” he said. “How much do you need 
to get a bed?” 

“Only five cents.” 

“Where ?” 

“At Hogan’s Flop.” 

“Take this,” and he put a quarter into the 
trembling hand. 

“Meet me at the Flop in half an hour. Now 
hurry out of the cold and get something to eat.” 

With a “thanks” upon his lips, the night ven- 
der shrank away, and the priest hurried down 
Madison Street. Across the river shone the 


10 


^^Hogan^s Flop^^ 


lights of the La Salle Hotel. Here were the two 
extremes of life, found in every city, and Chicago 
was no exception to the rule. On one side of 
the river, within ten minutes’ walk, were palatial 
hotels, luxury, and refinement; on the other side 
were wretched boarding-houses, with suffering, 
want, and misery. 

Father Lilly turned into a side street, if street 
it could be called, for the dark and dirty pas- 
sage was little more than an alley. He threw 
open a door and stood before the office of Tom 
Hogan, the proprietor of Hogan’s Flop. 

\ Tom Hogan had never sought publicity and 
yet his boarding-house was as well known and 
advertised as any hotel in Chicago. Do what he 
would he could not keep his establishment and 
^its mode of operation from appearing regularly 
In the city press. Almost at the risk of their 
liyes reporters stole into the dingy apartment 
an^d managed to get snap-shots of the manager 
ana, his boarders ; visitors, who feared to venture 
in, walked on the opposite side of the street and 
saw Vt least the dismal front of the Flop; stu- 
dents of sociology disguised as tramps spent 


” Hogan's Flop” 


II 


nights there, and wrote up long articles about 
the solution to the question of the day’s out- 
casts. 

But with Tom Hogan it was all simple charity. 
He had come to the city on a lake vessel years 
before and when his funds failed he all but froze 
and starved. Then he determined to do some- 
thing for others who might fare as he had fared. 
He started a hotel for tramps, and five cents a 
night was all he charged. Renting an old fac- 
tory he built two platforms, which extended six 
feet from the walls. These tiers took the place 
of beds, and for pillows hard, narrow boards 
eight inches high were used. There was no cere- 
mony or registering in this boarding-house. At 
the entrance was a small, dingy place enclosed 
with old boxes and dignified by the name of 
office. Here the frequenters paid a nickel and 
then, stumbling up the narrow stairs, threw 
themselves on the hard tiers without removing 
their clothes. They simply ‘‘flopped” down 
where there was room. Hence Hogan’s Hotel 
was soon dubbed “Hogan’s Flop,” and this name 
it kept despite the objections of the proprietor. 


12 


^^Hogan's Flop^ 


As the law prohibited Tom Hogan from re- 
ceiving inmates under sixteen he not unfrequent- 
ly turned over his younger applicants to Father 
Lilly. When, therefore, he had on this particu- 
lar night informed the priest that he had ‘‘one,'’ 
the message needed no explanation. 

“He won’t talk and I don’t know his name,’’ 
said Tom when Father Lilly appeared at the 
office. “You kin have ’im.” 

“I won’t go !” 

“Yes you will, my lad, yes you will!” 

“Of course he will,” put in the priest. “You 
have got only boards for him to sleep on, and I 
have a fine soft bed.” 

“I won’t go?” 

“Why?” 

“None of your business !” 

“Yes it is my business. I like boys. I have 
come out this cold night to take care of you; 
for you would have to leave this place and would 
freeze on the streets in an hour/’ 

“If he puts me out, I will freeze or go to jail, 
but I won’t go with you.” 

“I am the friend of every boy,” pleaded the 


''Hogan’s Flop” 13 

priest, without seeming to notice the remarks of 
the youth. 

“You are not my friend; I never had a friend.” 
The lad turned away from the two men. 

“Come,” said the priest, “come with me.” 

The lad leaped to his feet and with a terrible 
oath defied his would-be friend. 

Tom Hogan seized the youngster by the collar. 
“Read that sign,” he cried, pointing to a rough 
daub on the wall : “No cussin’ here.” 

The boy was finally quieted, and, after some 
threats to have him sent to jail, finally consented 
to accompany the priest; but only with the un- 
derstanding that he was to be allowed to leave 
the priest’s quarters on the following morning. 

Just at this moment the poor shoe-string ven- 
der came in, and with thanks handed the priest 
the borrowed overcoat. 

“You had your supper?” asked the latter. 

“Yes, and a good one; it cost fifteen cents — 
beans and a big piece of pork. I only wish I 
could get that much every night.” The lame 
vender paid his nickel and hobbled up the steps 
to find a resting place on the hard wood. 


14 


''Hogan's Flop' 


“This overcoat is for you,” explained the 
priest, turning to the lad. 

“It ain’t.” 

“But I say it is. I was bringing it to you 
when I met the poor fellow, and let him have it 
under the condition that he would bring it here.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“But it is cold outside and you’ll freeze to 
death before you get home with the Father,” re- 
monstrated the proprietor. 

“I don’t care if I do freeze,” snapped the out- 
cast. 

“But we care,” argued Father Lilly mildly, 
for he never lost his patience in dealing with this 
class of boys. He knew that a harsh reply would 
drive the youngster away. 

“Give me your coat!” demanded the little va- 
grant. 

“Why of course,” yielded the priest, “you may 
have it, and I will wear the old one.” 

“No you don^’t, your riverence,” interposed 
Hogan. “You jump right into that coat,” said 
he, turning to the boy, “and do it quick I” With 
these words he thrust the lad’s arms into the 


'Hogan^s Flop'' 


15 


coat and buttoned it. “J^st a little too big/' he 
said with a laugh. ‘‘But it will help to keep the 
wind away from your legs this cold night.” 

“I will help you to get one that will fit, if you 
are only willing to work,” put in the priest. 

“I don’t want any to fit.” 

“I’ll git you one that won’t fit, if you want to 
be contrary,” said Hogan. “If the Father 
wanted to git you a new one, you want an old 
one ; and if he wanted to git you an old one, you 
want a new one. Contrary, that’s what you want 
to be!” 

“He is just a little sleepy and tired,” pleaded 
the priest. “But you haven’t told us your name, 
my little fellow,” and Father Lilly stroked him 
kindly upon the head. 

“Ain’t got none,” he snarled. 

“Yes, you is,” said Hogan. “Contrary, that’s 
your name, contrary it be !” 

“He will give us his real name later. I am 
going to see the men,” explained the priest to the 
proprietor. “Wait for me here,” said he to the 
lad. “I will be back in a few minutes.” 

Up the dim and screeching steps went the 


i6 


^^Hogan’s Flop” 


priest. It was a visit that he often made. Oc- 
casionally he was called to administer a Sacra- 
ment there ; but often uninvited he went into this 
den where humanity was caged. Young students 
of sociology had made a rapid inspection of this 
lodging-place, and had written social articles to 
prove that the human race was degenerating. 
Truly it was the last resort of the outcasts of 
twentieth century civilization. Yet Father Lilly 
did not view it with the eyes of a pessimist. He 
could tell you the story of heroic lives that had 
passed away in that house and upon those rough 
boards; men who in their struggles against mis- 
fortune had sunk lower and lower in poverty; 
but who had risen superior to the grosser temp- 
tations of life. 

At the top of the first landing the priest 
paused. A large stove kept the room fairly 
warm even on this cold night. Two dingy oil 
lamps made it possible to find one’s way to the 
tiers, and also with an effort to read the signs 
upon the walls : '‘No cussin’ ” ; "No smokin’ or 
loud talkin’ after ten o’clock” ; "If you want to 
fight, join the army,” 


''Hogan's Flop" 


17 


As the priest had his heavy coat buttoned high 
about his neck and his fur cap pulled over his 
head, no one would have recognized him as a 
clergyman. He thought that he would give the 
hard boards a trial. 

“Room in here?’’ he asked of an inmate who 
was sitting upon the edge of the tier taking a 
last smoke before his night’s rest. 

“Always room,” grunted the man. 

“Cold out to-night,” said the priest in an un- 
conventional tone. But there was no answer. 
“Do you find these boards hard?” he continued. 

“Go on!” growled the man, “you’ll find out 
before morning that there is no feathers under 
you.” 

“Not even a pillow,” remarked the priest as 
he laid his head back against the hard board. 

“What do you want for a nickel?” This man 
seemed a defender of the reputation of the place. 

“Do you think I’ll be able to sleep?” 

“Let others sleep,” protested one opposite him. 

“You can talk till ten o’clock,” said the man 
with the pipe, at the same time stretching him- 
self by the side of the priest. 


1 8 "'Hogan's Flop" 

He was an old seaman, so he said, and had 
some money, but preferred to save it. Accus- 
tomed as he was to sleep on decks and coils of 
rope, he did not seriously object to the rough, 
hard boards on which he then lay. He informed 
the visitor that not all the men sleeping in this 
strange apartment were bad. Most of them were 
down and out, but many still earned an honest 
dollar. He held in contempt a certain class of 
professional beggars, many of whom were sound 
of limb, but by carrying crutches lived on the 
sympathy of the people. 

Just then a loud gong sounded — ^the signal for 
ten o’clock and silence. The men obeyed with 
the precision of soldiers, for down in the base- 
ment was a narrow prison into which any one 
was cast who disturbed the weary sleepers. 

The priest slipped away to the office, talked 
a while with Tom, then, awakening his young 
charge, who had fallen asleep in his chair, pre- 
pared to depart. 

Five minutes later Father Lilly and his young 
charge, facing the cutting zero wind, were hur- 
rying down Madison Street to the Boys’ Home. 


CHAPTER II 

Boys But Not Friends 

R eturning to his office at the Boys’ 
Home, Father Lilly found a man and a 
boy waiting for him. j 

“My name is Kevin,” said the stranger, grasp 
ing the priest’s hand. He was a powerful man, 
dark-featured and sturdy. 

“You should be on the police force,” remarked 
Father Lilly, admiring the soldier-like form of 
the man before him. 

“So I was; and perhaps I should have re- 
mained on the force; I am doing a little police 
work to-night.” 

“You didn’t arrest this fine fellow?” And 
the priest stooped and gathered into his arms the 
frightened lad, whose name was Will Starling. 

“No, he wasn’t arrested; he came of his own 
choice. My wife met him on the street, where 
he was begging, and brought him to our house 
19 


20 


Boys But Not Friends 

for supper. We didn’t have an empty bed to 
keep him over night.” 

''Came from the farm, I suppose?” asked the 
priest of the boy. 

"Yes,” drolled out the little stranger. 

"Shake hands,” said Father Lilly, drawing the 
two lads together, "shake hands and be friends.” 

"I don’t want to shake,” blurted out the name- 
less one from th^ Flop- 

"You don’t have to,” replied Will Starling. 

"Of course I don’t and I won’t.” 

Mr. Kevin upbraided them for their conduct 
in the presence of. the priest, who was doing so 
much for them. But Father Lilly interposed 
with a kind word and motioned the lads to take 
chairs. 

He then drew out a history-sheet to take down 
some facts about young Starling. He was six- 
teen years old. His parents, who had spent a 
shiftless life, renting farms in western Illinois, 
failing in every case to pay rent, were now in jail 
for stealing. The boy had lived with them un- 
til their arrest. He made his way to Chicago, 
where he was begging along the streets until by 


Boys But Not Friends 21 

chance he met Mrs. Kevin. These were all the | 
facts that could be ascertained about him. / 

“What can you do in the way of work?” asked 
the priest. 

“Drive horses.” 

“Had much practice?” 

“Lots of it, down home.” 

“Helped your father?” put in Mr. Kevin. 

“Yes.” 

“Could you drive an express wagon?” 

“Any wagon.” 

“It is much harder to drive through the city 
than it is through a field or along a road where 
there is nothing to hit,” explained Mr. Kevin. 

“I can drive a team through our gate, and 
most people couldn’t do that.” This feat was 
more difficult than it appeared from the boy’s 
mere statement, for on one of the farms which 
the Starlings had rented, the gate at the entrance 
to the lane leading to the barn was so narrow 
that it barely admitted a wagon. 

“I’ve several calls from the Northern Express 
Company,” said the priest, “and can probably 
start him to-morrow.” 


22 


'" Boys But Not Friends 

‘This is quite satisfactory; when he gets set- 
tled down we want him to call at our house oc- 
casionally.” 

“Kind of you,” admitted the priest. 

“I want to drive; but I won-t stay here long. 
I want to drive somewhere else.” 

“And where?” asked Father Lilly. 

“Clay Banks,” said the boy with a whim- 
per. 

“As far ^s I make out,” explained Mr. Kevin, 
“the last firm that the parents of this boy rented 
went by the name of Clay Banks, a rather poor 
place wh got its name from a peculiar red clay 
along the hills. It’s the ambition of this, boy to 
own that farm.” 

“There,” said Father Lilly, “that’s a worthy 
ambition.” Turning to the lad he exclaimed, 
“I’ll see to it that you own that farm.” 

“And can I find pa and ma and bring them 
there?” 

“We’ll do our best to help you.” 

“And you won’t make me stay and work 
you?” and Will Starling Jooked into the strange 
face of Father Lilly. 




Boys But Not Friends ' ^3 

“The boys here are free to come and go wheil 
they please/' explained the priest. 

“Then Tm going to-night/' whipped out the 
nameless youth from the Flop. 

“You stay here and learn a little manners," 
and Kevin turned upon the boy, thinking to 
crush him by his bold look. 

But the boy threw back a wild, defiance with 
an oath. “Tm not your hired man," he said, 
“and I'll go when I please." 

“We do not intend to keep you against your 
will," acknowledged the priest mildly; “but you 
have promised to stay to-night. To-morrow 
morning you are free." 

The boy sank back again into the chair and 
covered his face with his hands. But imagining 
that he had again been overlooked in the interest 
shown for young Starling, he leaped to his feet 
and cried out: “I am going to-night, none of 
youse cares for this guy; you don't care for me. 
I'm going to-night even if I do freeze." 

“We have to settle the affair for this boy be- 
fore the gentleman leaves," Father Lilly tried to 
explain. 


24 Boys But Not Friends 

‘‘He’s no better than I am; and I met you 
first/’ 

“You will not be neglected.” 

“You bet I won’t; but I am going to knock 
the head off of that ninny before I go.” With 
this threat he leaped toward young Starling, 
only to be seized by the strong arm of Mr. 
Kevin. 

“Let ’im come, I ain’t afraid of ’im!” and 
now both boys were held at arm’s length, while 
the former policeman gave them some good ad- 
vice. “I think I’d let you fight if you were not 
in the priest’s house, and when the fight was 
over, I’d make you hug and kiss each other.” 

When the lads were quieted Mr. Kevin de- 
parted. 

Alone with the boys the priest spoke to them 
kindly, then asked them to kneel with him and 
say night prayers. A blank gaze was the only 
response and with sorrow, but not surprise, the 
minister of God learned that neither had ever 
been taught to pray. It was too late that night 
for instruction and the lads were in no humor 
to receive it. The glare in their eyes convinced 


Boys But Not Friends 25 

the priest that there would be a fight the first 
time they were alone. 

Not to disturb the other inmates who were 
asleep in the large dormitory, the priest put the 
newcomers in small private rooms, wished them 
each a good rest, and went back to his office. 

Three years had passed since Father Lilly had 
undertaken the work of caring for the wayward 
boys of Chicago. Reared himself in one of the 
poorer sections of the city and acquainted with 
the various paths that lead downward in the road 
of youthful life, he was well equipped to help 
the boy who needed a home, a friend, or good 
advice. He built a new home for the boys and 
started a printing plant. Day after day he at- 
tended the juvenile court, sat listening to the 
cases, and, when he felt that he could amend the 
ways of a delinquent, he asked the privilege of 
the judge to take the boy to the Home and give 
him a chance. His prudence and judgment could 
be relied upon, and the judge generally acqui- 
esced to the priest’s request. 

Early next morning the nameless boy awoke. 
Revenge was still in his heart. Cautiously he 


26 


Boys But Not Friends 

crept into the room of the one whom he had 
met the night before, and for whom through 
jealousy he conceived such hatred. 

‘‘Wake up !” Young Starling felt a hand upon 
his shoulder, and, opening his eyes, saw standing 
over him the nameless boy with whom he had 
attempted to fight. 

“Get out!'' he muttered, “it's dark, and I'm 
sleepy 1" 

“Come on and fight," was the challenge of his 
companion. 

“Get out! Get out!" 

“I could've knocked your liead off while you're 
asleep, but I’ve giv’n you a chance. Come on 
and come quick. I’ll lick you, and beat it before 
that priest is awake.” 

“I am a game rooster," retorted Starling, leap- 
ing from the bed. 

Before the boys could exchange blows the door 
opened, and in walked Father Lilly, who had an- 
ticipated trouble, and the escape of the nameless 
one. 

“It’s too early to fight, boys," he interposed. 

“If I can't fight 'im I’ll fight you,” cried the 


Boys But Not Friends 


27 


boy without a name. With this he leaped at the 
priest. Father Lilly seized him firmly and held 
him as in a vise. *^Yon get back into your bed/' 
he said to young Starling. Then he forced the 
other boy out of the room into his own office. 

“What can I do for you?” he asked of the 
enraged lad as he put him down into a large 
chair. 

No answer. 

“Have I not tried to be kind to you?” 

“You helped that other guy first.” 

“But I could not keep the man waiting.” 

“Go on ! Let me out of here !” 

“We never keep a boy against his will. I 
want you to understand that this is not a jail.” 

“It’s worse than a jail! Let me go!” 

“You may go at once. But can’t I give you 
some warm coffee and a little bread before you 
leave the place? It’s still below zero and you 
may find it hard to get a breakfast.” 

“I don’t want none.” 

“So you insist on going.” 

“Let me go !” and the boy arose from the chair. 

This was a strange case. The boy was in the 


28 


Boys But Not Friends 

full possession of his senses, the priest saw that. 
As miserable and friendless as he was he had 
been angered because another boy had been cared 
for first. Nothing could induce the lad to remain 
or to take a cup of coffee. Father Lilly walked 
with him to the door and opened it. “If you are 
in need,*' said he kindly, “you will find a friend 
here." 

The boy glared at him, struck him, and dashed 
down the steps out into the cold. 

That afternoon the priest read of the arrest 
of a boy for stealing cakes from a bakery. There 
was some reference which made him suspect that 
his nameless friend was the culprit. 

Father Lilly was at court next morning, recog- 
nized the lad, and heard his sentence of four 
months in the house of correction. 

A week later Father Lilly called at the office 
of the reformatory and learned that the boy had 
been put in the kitchen. With the permission 
of the official he interviewed the cook, told him 
of the experiences of the week previous and 
asked him to treat the young culprit with the 
greatest kindness. 


Boys But Not Friends 


29 


The cook agreed to do what he could, and true 
to his word he overlooked every fault and finally 
won the boy over by his kindness. He had prom- 
ised the priest to let him know when the little 
prisoner’s time expired; but, unfortunately, he 
forgot to do so. One morning the nameless boy, 
who had borne but a number, was released. 

He walked from the reformatory subdued in- 
deed and repentant, but friendless and penniless. 

Days passed. He could get no work. Ragged 
and hungry he slipped into an employment 
agency one morning, told the man at the desk 
that he could cook, and asked whether there was 
a vacancy anywhere. He owned up, when ques- 
tioned, that he had learned to cook in a reforma- 
tory. 

There were no vacancies in the hotels ; besides, 
who would hire this dirty, ragged creature to 
work in a clean kitchen. 

In despair the boy moved across the room and 
sat on a bench. 


CHAPTER III 
The Governor 

N O ONE could tell why Uncle Charles was 
called the Governor, for he did anything 
but govern. Alice, who was now twelve, could 
remember how even as a child of seven she could 
persuade the Governor to come or go at her bid- 
ding. He seemed to work and earn money just 
to take care of her and to satisfy her every wish. 
If Alice wished to play dolls on the floor the 
Governor had to get down on his knees and 
amuse her; if she wished to walk he walked with 
her ; if she wished to swing he sat with her in the 
big swing for hours. As for money — she just 
reached into his pockets and took whole for- 
tunes. Her mother often complained of the Gov- 
ernor’s liberality; but it was all of no use. His 
whole pleasure seemed to consist in satisfying the 
whims of the children. 

Walter did not take as much of the Governor’s 
time as did his younger sister, Alice; but he got 


30 


The Governor 


31 


more of his money. No boy at the private acad- 
emy was as well provided with pocket money as 
was Walter Stanley. He was fourteen now and 
was just finishing his first year of high-school 
work. He had been promised a rather large gift 
in gold if he led his class, but he had already lost 
all hopes of gathering in the treasure. Though 
not a leader, he was by no means dull; though 
not an athlete he was fond of games, and his 
ready pocket-money to secure balls and bats en- 
abled him to demand a position in class con- 
tests, but he had little chance or ambition to be 
a member of the regular academy teams. What 
added to his popularity was that he had permis- 
sion from the Governor to pick a companion for 
a camping expedition into northern Michigan 
during the coming vacation. 

Charles Sherwood was a middle-aged bachelor 
who lived with his widowed sister and her two 
children, Alice and Walter. The children would 
not have recognized the name if he had been ad- 
dressed as Mr. Sherwood or Uncle Charles; to 
them he was simply the Governor — just the Gov- 
ernor — only the Governor. We were mistaken 


32 


The Governor 


when we said that he never governed. In one 
thing he had his way — ^he would not buy a villa. 
Every year he gave the children a vacation. He 
had enjoyed the trip on the Great Lakes, he had 
hired a private yacht to fish red snappers in the 
Gulf of Mexico, he had visited the Pacific coast. 
But the children wanted a real villa of their own 
— some place where they could live in a snug 
little cottage all the summer. Mr. Sherwood 
would not yield on this point. As long as he had 
the money, he said, he would give them a vaca- 
tion, but he liked variety. It would make va- 
cation monotonous to spend it in the same place 
every year. The Governor gave numerous in- 
stances where people of means had erected beau- 
tiful and costly villas, only to grow tired of them 
in a few seasons. So on this one point the Gov- 
ernor really governed. 

One June morning Charles Sherwood left his 
office in the Fowler Furniture Company, and 
walked down Wabash Avenue, Chicago, to an 
employment agency. He owned some stock in 
the company and had charge of a large part of 
the business. 


The Governor 


33 


“I am looking for a cook for a camping expe- 
dition,” said he to the man at the desk in the 
agency. 

‘'Very particular?” asked the man as he tapped 
upon the lid of the desk with his pencil. 

“Well, he must be able to cook, if you call that 
being particular — some one who can make coffee, 
fry ham and eggs, and just work in general.” 

“I see — you don’t want a French chef.” 

“No, we are going to rough it in the Michigan 
woods — in fact, I can lend a little help myself.” 

“Will you have a stove?” the agent wanted to 
know. 

“Nonsense,” grunted Mr. Sherwood, “we are 
going miles from any town ; all that we can take 
are a few pots and pans, and that is all.” 

“How would that fellow fill the bill?” and the 
clerk pointed toward a boy who sat at one side 
on a rough bench. He was in rags, was dirty 
and repulsive. His face was wizen and bore 
evident marks of want and suffering. In fact, 
the gaping figure was half idiotic in its meaning- 
less stare. 

“Can you cook?” asked Sherwood in pity. 


34 


The Governor 


"‘Been helpin’ for four months.” 

^‘Where were you helping?” 

‘In the — the—” 

“Well,” put in Sherwood, “in the what?” 

“In the — the State reformatory,” gasped the 
boy in words of despair. 

There was a pause. “How long is it since 
you left the place?” said the man at the desk. 
“Tell the gentleman all about it — about yourself, 
just as you told me a few minutes ago.” 

“Long on three weeks, sirs, and I ain’t had 
much to eat since. Can’t get no work. People 
won’t have me. They ask me where I was last 
and when I tell ’em they kick me out.” 

“Were you honorably dismissed?” Sherwood 
wanted to know. 

“Yes, sir,” and the boy felt in his pocket for 
his paper of dismissal and recommendation. 

Mr. Sherwood read it, then he looked at the 
poor wretch. He was no longer Charles Sher- 
wood, the business man, but the Governor with 
Alice and Walter. “Do you want a chance to 
start life over?” he inquired. 

“Yes, sir.” 


The Governor 


35 


you use any profane language?** As 
there was no answer the Governor went on : “Do 
you curse and swear any?’* 

“Lots of times.” 

“Can you correct yourself, that is, can you 
stop swearing?** 

“Don’t know, sir, I never tried it.” 

“See here,” exclaimed Sherwood,” turning to 
the agent at the desk, “there will be some young 
schoolboys with me and I don’t want any pro- 
fanity. But about the cooking,” he resumed 
again, addressing the boy. “Can you cook for 
five people?” 

“I helped cook for five hundred.” 

“What did you do?’* 

“Most everything.** 

“Not very satisfactory,** mused the man; still 
he had become interested in the outcast and was 
determined to give him a chance. “You can cut 
wood, make a fire, and wash dishes. Between 
us we can do the cooking. Let us strike a bar- 
gain right here. How much do you want for 
being agent?** he asked of the man at the desk. 

“I will be satisfied with five dollars.** 


36 


The Governor 


^‘Too much,” argued the business man, ‘‘I will 
give you three dollars.” 

The man accepted the offer. 

‘‘And what are your terms?” asked Sherwood 
of the boy. 

‘‘Just somethin’ to eat,” said the lad. 

“Oh, ril do better than that. You need some- 
thing to wear, and those shoes — why you can’t 
sven call them shoes. Still they’ll do over night. 
I am busy the rest of the day, but to-morrow 
morning I’ll have time to fit you out for the trip. 
Here is my card and business address. Can you 
find the Fowler Furniture Store?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied the boy,^ taking the 
card. 

“How much will a bed cost you to-night?” 

“Fifteen cents.” 

“But you can get one for a quarter — a little 
better than usual.” 

“I ain’t had any kind for two weeks,” inter- 
posed the boy. 

“Try one to-night just for a change,” said the 
man. “Here is a dollar,” he continued, “seventy- 
five cents for three meals and twenty-five for the 


The Governor 37 

bed. One thing more, my boy, are you sure that 
you will meet me as you have promised?” 

‘'My word and honor, sir.” 

“And why were you arrested?” asked Mr. 
Sherwood as the two left the agency and walked 
out on Dearborn Street. 

“For most everything, sir.” 

“And you have determined to reform, to turn 
over a new leaf — what put this into your head?” 

“’Cause — ’cause, the cook was kind to me.” 

“Was no one ever kind to you before?” 

“One fellow wanted to be, but I wouldn’t let 
him then; but I’ll look him up some day and 
’pologize.” 

“That’s good. Now about the cursing. You 
mustn’t use any bad words of any kind, for there 
will be four young boys in the party, and I don’t 
want you to set them a bad example. They are 
polite, and it will do you good to be in their com- 
pany for a few weeks.” The street was blocked 
by traffic, and while the man and boy waited, the 
former continued to give advice and to explain 
to the lad what an advantage he would enjoy in 
the company of the academy students. 


The Governor 


38 

The boy promised to try his best. The cook 
in the reformatory had been kind and kindness 
had won his heart. He would try not to curse, 
he would try to be polite, he would try to do 
anything that was right, because he had prom- 
ised the cook. Again and again he had prom- 
ised the cook to do what was right, after the 
cook had been kind to him. 

Mr. Sherwood wanted the boy’s name and 
address. 

His name was Zip. 

‘^That must be your nickname,” argued the 
man. But it was the only name that the boy 
knew. He had been called Zip by his little com- 
panions at the orphan asylum in New York; if 
he had a second name he did not know it. He 
had been placed with a farmer somewhere in 
the east, had run away to escape cruel treatment, 
and finally been arrested for stealing. This was 
the life history of the boy who called himself 
Zip. 

‘^Since I am going to adopt you into the 
family, suppose I give you my name,” suggested 
Mr. Sherwood. ‘T will call you Charles Zip.” 


The Governor 


39 


The lad was pleased with the idea. There in 
the crowded thoroughfare of Chicago, Charles 
Zip received the name that he will bear through- 
out this story, and that he is still carrying 
through life. The reader, no doubt, recognizes 
him as the ‘‘one,’' the nameless “one,” whom 
Father Lilly had taken to the Boys’ Home from 
Hogan’s Flop on the cold February night. 

Of course Charles Zip had no address to give, 
for he had been sleeping in the parks, in alleys, 
in barns — just anywhere to escape the vigilance 
of the police and the inclemency of the weather. 

At the entrance of the Fowler Furniture 
Store, Charles Sherwood parted with his young 
namesake. “Meet me here to-morrow noon,” 
said he, “and I will buy you everything that you 
need for the vacation trip.” 

“You and the cook are kind to me,” repeated 
the boy as he pressed the hand of his new bene- 
factor. 

Half an hour later an officer walked into the 
private office of Mr. Sherwood dragging young 
Charles Zip roughly after him. 

“Mr. Sherwood?” asked the official. 


40 


The Governor 


“I am the gentleman, sir/’ 

“This boy claims that you gave him a dollar 
bill this morning/' 

“I did, sir," was the curt reply. 

“Yesterday," explained the officer, “he begged 
for something to eat at a restaurant, saying that 
he had not a cent ; to-day he came in with a dol- 
lar bill, and the proprietor concluded that the 
boy stole it. He called me in to arrest him. The 
youngster claimed that you gave him the dollar 
bill; I just brought him in to find out whether 
he spoke the truth." 

“Dragg’d me like a dog," whimpered the boy, 
“and sir-sir-I broke my promise not to cuss. I 
cuss'd the officer. What can a poor fellow do?" 
he went on, looking up as he talked, into the face 
of Charles Sherwood. “If I ain't got no money 
they cop me, and if I is got money they cop me." 

“Only an accident," pleaded Mr. Sherwood. 
“You can’t blame the officer for doing his duty." 

“Quite right,” snapped the man in blue. 

“But you will have no more trouble with this 
boy. I have taken him in charge. To-morrow 
I'll fit him out with what he n.eeds, and the day 


The Governor 


41 


after he starts with me for northern Michigan. 
When he comes back I’ll see that he gets a chance 
to start life over.” 

The officer bow^d himself out. Mr. Sherwood 
gave the boy four quarters instead of the dollar 
bill, added two more as a compensation for his 
trouble, and dismissed him with assuring words. 

‘Wou and the cook has been kind to me,” he 
muttered as he left the office. 


CHAPTER IV 
Hard to Make a Choice 

W ALTER STANLEY had become the 
most popular boy at the Devon Academy, 
for it had been rumored that his rich uncle, who 
was to take him on a long vacation trip, had 
given him the privilege of choosing a companion. 
Moreover, all the expenses of the latter were to 
be paid. Walter was met by boys singly and 
in small groups, at street corners and on his way 
to school. He was surrounded by admiring 
friends during recess, and was smiled upon dur- 
ing the solemn hours of class. Even the profes- 
sor was surprised at the round of applause that 
he received after reading a composition. In fact 
the composition was not without its merit. En- 
titled, “Fishing Red Snappers in the Gulf of 
Mexico,'^ it gave an account of a ten days' trip 
to the red snapper banks, the thrill of pride and 
pleasure as the fisherman dragged a fifteen-pound 
42 


Hard to Make a Choice 43 

prize through ninety feet of water, and finally, 
of an adventure with a shark, which was lured to 
the surface and harpooned by an old sailor. 

Incidentally, it was learned by the entire class 
that the rich uncle was rather prodigal during 
his vacation trip, for he had chartered a special 
fishing-smack for his sail to the snapper-banks 
in the Gulf of Mexico. 

As vacation drew on, Walter’s selection had 
narrowed down to three boys. 

Ferdinand Eggert seemed to have the best 
chance. He had three nicknames, “Spider,” 
“Legs,” and “Wireless.” Although a boy of 
only fifteen he was nearly six feet tall. On the 
first day of school he had been dubbed “Spider- 
legs;” but his companions finally shortened the 
name, some calling him “Spider,” and others ad- 
dressing him as “Legs.” Many of the boys 
called him “Wireless,” as he had a wireless out- 
fit which he took great delight in explaining to 
visitors. He had written short articles for a 
scientific magazine, and had made some altera- 
tions in the receiver which had attracted the at- 
tention of experts. Walter Stanley had been a 


44 Hard to Make a Choice 

frequent visitor to the mysterious garret and its 
outfit long before there was a question of a com- 
panion for vacation. 

John Newell, though not an academy boy, was 
making the most persistent effort to win over 
Walter Stanley. He made no secret of the mat- 
ter. His chief characteristic was boldness. He 
was rather slim for a boy of fourteen. His fea- 
tures were sharp, with a nose unusually long 
and pointed. His face was flushed and gave the 
effect of continual excitement. He talked so 
much of the coming trip to the northern Michi- 
gan woods that many boys considered the affair 
settled. In fact, John so regarded it. As his 
father was not without means he was determined 
to go with Walter even if he had to force himself 
upon the company and pay his way. 

Carroll Cage was the third candidate. It was 
some days before the professor had been able to 
distinguish him from Walter Stanley at the be- 
ginning of the year. Even after a month had 
passed they deceived him by changing desks and 
neckties. They were the same height, with the 
same full face, with hair black and bushy, with 


Hard to Make a Choice 45 

the same innocent, irrepressible laugh. Walter 
was better dressed, but Carroll’s clothes were al- 
ways neat and tidy. While the Cages were not 
poor, the family was large and the father could 
not afford to spend money on a long vacation 
trip. When Walter first announced to his friend 
the promised trip to the Michigan trout stream, 
the latter raised his hands as if uttering a prayer, 
and expressed the delight there must be in such 
an outing ; but he did not ask to be chosen for the 
trip. He was too modest to make such a re- 
quest. Still unconsciously he had made an ap- 
peal, and that appeal went to the heart of his 
friend. 

^‘Well, Walter,” said Uncle Charles as they 
sat down to supper one night, “have you chosen 
a companion?” 

“I think I’ll have to take three,” answered the 
boy. 

“Not if your Uncle Charles knows it,” came 
the objection. 

“And he has to keep something to pay for ma 
and me at Detroit,” put in Alice. 

“But I can’t make a choice,” returned Walter, 


46 Hard to Make a Choice 

‘‘it isn’t as easy as taking a piece of bread,” and 
with this he helped himself from the bread-pan. 
“You see, bread don’t care; you can take any 
old piece and the other pieces won’t object. But 
it is different with boys, if I pick one the other 
two — well ” 

“Well,” took up Uncle Charles, as Walter 
paused. “Well or no well, I can’t pay the bill, 
so there the matter ends.” 

“It is just this way,” argued Walter. “Ferd 
Eggert says he will put up a wireless and get the 
news every day from the closest city. That will 
save stamps and papers.” 

The Governor laughed. “How much will he 
save ?” 

“Lots,” replied the boy. 

“And he will cost me fifty dollars for every 
one that he saves. I can’t see the argument.” 

“Then John Newell begs me every day,” went 
on the boy. 

“Does he imagine that I have inherited the 
Morgan estate?” the Governor wanted to know. 

“Carroll Cage just looks at me all day and 
smiles,” continued Walter; “but I know what he 


Hard to Make a Choice 47 

is thinking about. It will just break his heart 
if he hears that he can’t go.” 

''Let me see,” said the Governor, putting down 
his knife and fork and counting with his fingers. 
"One boy has a wireless outfit and therefore I, 
Charles Rockefeller Sherwood, must pay his ex- 
penses for a summer vacation. Number two just 
begs every day to go and therefore I, Charles 
Carnegie Sherwood, must pay his expenses for a 
summer vacation. Another boy, whom we shall 
call number three, just smiles all day and for 
these smiles, I, Charles Morgan Sherwood, must 
pay his expenses for a summer vacation. As far 
as I can figure out I, Charles Rockefeller Car- 
negie Morgan Sherwood, will have to make an 
assignment before September.” 

This seemed to settle the matter for Alice; 
but Walter was not so ready to yield. "Perhaps 
John Newell will pay his own way,” said he. 

"Even so,” put in Mrs. Stanley, who thus far 
had only smiled at the demands of her son, "I 
do not want him to go. He may be a good boy, 
but I must tell you plainly, Walter, that I do not 
like him.” 


48 Hard to Make a Choice 

Just then the telephone rang. It was John 
Newell with the news that his father would pay 
his expenses for the trip. 

‘There, mother,” said Walter, as he hung up 
the receiver, “we can’t say no, since he will pay 
his way.” 

“Yes, your uncle can refuse to take him.” 

“But he is not a bad boy,” pleaded Walter. 

“He may not be,” said the mother, and ad- 
dressing Uncle Charles she continued, “I have 
never liked this boy, John Newell. My advice 
would be to leave him at home.” 

“Suppose he comes along on the same train 
and to the same place; we couldn’t stop him,” 
added Charles Sherwood. 

“I don’t see what you have got against him,” 
Walter wanted to know. 

“Your uncle is in charge of the arrangements,” 
added the mother. “If he is willing to take the 
boy, let him do so. I have expressed my opin- 
ion. I don’t suppose that he will do any harm 
during the trip.” 

John Newell being finally settled, there was 
the further question of the other two boys. Wal- 
ter did not see how the expedition could possibly 


Hard to Make a Choice 49 

start without Ferdinand Eggert and his wireless 
outfit; still there was the silent pleading of Car- 
roll Cage. 

Although the Governor seemed to reject every 
plea of the boy, still the mother noticed that he 
was gradually weakening. Little Alice listened 
with no small amount of consternation to the 
elaborate preparations, and wondered whether 
there would be anything left of her uncle's bank 
account to defray the expenses to Detroit. 

Ten times the Governor said “No” to Walter’s 
request. Ten times the request was repeated. 
Finally Uncle Charles got angry, which was, as 
usual, but a prelude to his yielding. 

The door-bell rang and in walked Ferdinand 
Eggert. He had a promise from his father to 
pay for his railroad ticket, and had convinced 
himself that he would secure work of some kind 
to pay for his meals. 

Uncle Charles, who was just on the point of 
offering to pay for all the expenses, readily 
yielded to the request of supplying the deficit. 

It only remained to inform Carroll Cage that 
he would join the expedition, and to await the 
time of departure. 


CHAPTER V 


Bound for the Pine Forest 

Y OU would not have known Charlie Zip. He 
scarcely recognized himself when he looked 
into the large mirror in the furnishing store, 
where he had met his benefactor. Everything 
he wore was new; he had changes of linen in a 
suit-case, and carried a bundle containing his old 
clothes, which were to be washed and used for 
his working outfit. 

When he passed through the great doors of 
the Northwestern depot on Madison Street, Chi- 
cago, he felt that he was leaving his past life be- 
hind him and was entering upon a new era. He 
had made firm resolutions, and now the time had 
come when he was to put his resolve to a test. 

At the depot he had met his four boy com- 
panions, for, although he came along in the ca- 
pacity of a cook, he had the assurance that he 
would be regarded as one of the party. He had 
50 


Bound for the Pine Forest 51 

shaken hands with each of the boys from the 
Devon Academy, and had been impressed by their 
cordial greeting. He entered the coach and took 
a seat with Mr. Sherwood. John Newell sat be- 
side Walter Stanley, and in front of them were 
Ferdinand Eggert and Carroll Cage. Walter’s 
dog, Dover, was securely resting in the baggage- 
car. 

And now the train was off. The Governor 
pulled out a note-book and carefully checked off 
every item for the camp. 

“I don’t think that I have forgotten a single 
thing,” he remarked to Charlie Zip. “I even 
thought of the thread and needles to mend our 
clothes; I have found from experience that they 
come in handy.” 

“I can help you out on that; I am better at 
sewin’ than cookin’.” 

''When did you learn?” the man wanted to 
know. 

"Just had to I’arn myself when I was trampin’ 
it.” 

"But that is all past now,” and the Governor 
turned the subject to the camp and its outfit. 


52 Bound for the Pine Forest 

‘‘Is it true about the bears?” asked Charlie, 
as he caught a part of the conversation of the 
four boys in front of him. 

“Quite a number in the woods, I am told,” 
affirmed Mr. Sherwood. 

“Real bears, like you see in the circus?” 

“Just the same.” 

“Will they hug you to death?” 

“Not in the summer time. They get plenty 
to eat along the river — crawfish and the like,” 
was the explanation; “but in the winter, when 
it is cold and the snow is deep, they kill sheep 
and pigs. I have heard of them hurting but few 
persons.” 

“Can we hunt them?” 

“Not during the summer. I understand that, 
in case they are injuring anything on the farm, 
a license can be secured to kill one, but only one. 
But you can kill a wolf at any time, either sum- 
mer or winter. Can you use a rifle or shotgun?” 
Mr. Sherwood asked of Charlie. 

“No, sir, but if I went out in the woods I’d 
want somethin’ to defend myself with, for I seen 
a bear nearly hug a fellow to death in a circus.” 


Bound for the Pine Forest 53 

^Terhaps it was larger than the north Michi- 
gan bear.” 

‘‘You say we’ll see wolves? I read about a 
pack of wolves that chased a feller up on a house. 
And they were just climbin’ after ’im when he 
played his fiddle, and they stood around listenin’ 
’till mornin,’ and then some folks came and fixed 
’em.” 

“Yes, yes, I remember the story in a reader; 
but I don’t think I’d like to depend on a fiddle 
for these wolves. The fiddle is all right for a 
story-book, but I prefer a rifle or a quick re- 
peater. I’ll show you how to use both.” 

Then there was a talk about wolves and deer. 
The latter were described as numerous and very 
tame in the summer months. In fact, it was no 
unusual thing for a young deer to jump over 
into a farmer’s garden and eat his young vege- 
tables in summer. But trout fishing and canoe- 
ing were described as the best part of the com- 
ing vacation trip. 

The boys in front were rehearsing episodes of 
the past school year, and Ferdinand Eggert was 


54 Bound for the Pine Forest 

giving a rather complicated account of the new 
wireless which he had brought. 

About ten o’clock Mr. Sherwood went to his 
berth in the sleeper, leaving the boys to rest as 
best they could in the coach. 

When he returned the following morning to 
take the boys to breakfast he found the car in 
commotion, for a lady claimed that one of them 
had stolen a watch and about twenty dollars 
from her hand-bag. She had no proof except 
one of them had passed her chair several times 
during the night; but she could not identify any 
one. Ferdinand Eggert was eliminated, as she 
remembered that the individual was not so tall. 

The boys consented to allow the conductor to 
search them. Walter Stanley and John Newell 
each had a five-dollar bill in his pocketbook with 
smaller bills and some loose change. The lady 
claimed that she missed a five-dollar bill. But 
what proof was there that either boy had her 
money? The conductor declared each boy inno- 
cent. Carroll Cage had only a little change in 
silver, and Charlie Zip was penniless. No trace 
of the watch could be found. 


55 


Bound for the Pine Forest 

The watch, as the lady claimed, was very val- 
uable, besides it was a precious keepsake, as it 
had belonged to her son, Crawford Pfeffer, and 
had his initials engraved upon it. It was a watch 
of medium size and of Elgin make. 

These facts were noted by the train officials, 
as also by Mr. Sherwood, who took the full name 
and address of Mrs. Pfeffer. 

‘‘Are you well acquainted with all these boys?’’ 
asked the conductor of Mr. Sherwood, whom he 
had called aside. 

“I must confess they are almost strangers to 
me, with the exception of the youngster sitting 
there near the window,” and he pointed to Wal- 
ter Stanley. “He is my sister’s son. Two of 
the boys are his school companions, one is a play- 
mate, and one, who is to cook for us, is an entire 
stranger.” 

“How long will you be with them?” 

“We have planned to spend three weeks in the 
woods.” 

“In that case you should discover the guilty 
party, if he is in your crowd; for boys of that 
age can not successfully conceal a theft for a 


56 Bound for the Pine Forest 

great while. I can rely on your doing your best 
to find the thief.” 

‘‘You are not more anxious than I am.” 

“When you return to Chicago I would like to 
have you ring me up at the Northwestern de- 
pot,” and the conductor gave his name and tele- 
phone number. 

“With great pleasure.” 

“Although we are not responsible financially 
for any loss in the coach, still we consider it our 
duty to protect our patrons,” explained the offi- 
cial. “I should like to be able to write to the 
lady after you return from your vacation, and 
to convince her that we had made every effort to 
recover her lost articles.” 

“You can rely on hearing from me.” 

It was now a few minutes after nine o’clock, 
and the train was drawing up at Keeseville, on 
the southeastern shore of Lake Superior. It was 
the center of several copper mines and had a 
large lighthouse and government wireless sta- 
tion. 

Ferdinand was anxious to make the acquaint- 
ance of the operator, but the accommodation 


Bound for the Pine Forest 57 

train, which was to carry the party from Keese- 
ville to Funda, eight miles away, was waiting 
in the station. 

The Governor, who had little faith in the 
young scientist, promised to pay his way back 
to Keeseville in case he got his instruments in 
working condition. 

Ferdinand readily consented to this offer and 
did not even ring up the station from the depot. 

The camping outfit was transferred to the ac- 
commodation train, which was soon puffing out 
of the station toward Funda. 

The railroad was cut through what seemed a 
boundless pine forest. It wound its tortuous way 
along hills and deep ravines and over beds of 
huge rough boulders. 

Although it was the first week of July, the 
scant vegetation gave the few clearings the ap- 
pearance of early spring. A single night’s ride 
had brought the visitors into a new world. Vege- 
tables could be raised, but the summers were too 
short to give grain a chance to reach maturity; 
besides, the soil seemed poor and rocky. 

At Funda, Farmer Riggs met the party with 


58 Bound for the Pine Forest 

his wagon. On it was loaded the camp outfit, 
while Mr. Sherwood, the boys, and the dog found 
place among the baggage. 

The road along which they drove was little 
more than a trail through the thick pines. 

Good-bye to the heat, and dust, and crowds, 
and noise of the city! Good-bye to books and 
tasks! Here was freedom — glorious freedom in 
the great pine forests of upper Michigan ! 


CHAPTER VI 
The Camp 

1 COULD tell you of the great, unbroken pine 
forest; of trees so close and branches so 
thick that the bright sunlight filters but feebly 
through the green and knitted canopy; of giant 
trees, old and gnarled, and spectre-like guar- 
dians of the woods for centuries. Yes, but I 
can not make you feel what I felt as I stood in 
the twilight gloom of this pine forest ; stood there 
at mid-day, when I knew the sun was burning 
bright overhead, and yet could find no entrance 
to the lonely path which I trod. I stood with 
bared head, as if I were a part of creation's first 
days, and could almost hear the words of God 
calling the universe into being. Into this weird 
and somber woods our young friends were pene- 
trating. 

Farmer Riggs had chosen an ideal place for a 
camp — a dry and level bank some ten feet above 


59 


6o 


The Camp 

the water of Copper River. It was a noted trout 
stream and got its name from the fact that the 
stones at the bottom of the river were of a pe- 
culiar reddish color; and, in fact, a copper mine 
was operated at a place where the river emptied 
into Lake Superior, five miles distant. Although 
the iron in the water reddened the stones at the 
bottom, it was a perpetual fountain of the purest 
liquid. It was not wide, however, for a good 
caster could throw his bait to the opposite shore. 

The farmer stopped his large wagon at the 
top of the hill, for only a narrow trail led down 
the steep bank to the camping place. 

“These boys have come out for work and ex- 
ercise,’' said Charles Sherwood as he paid the 
driver. “We’ll let them carry everything to the 
camp.” 

“It is about dinner time,” suggested Walter, 
“and we wouldn’t mind having something to eat 
before beginning work.” 

“You can see how much work I am going to 
get out of this crowd,” remarked Sherwood to 
Farmer Riggs. 

“This pine forest do give a big appetite, sir.” 


6i 


The Camp 

‘‘You are right ; I am hungry myself, and I am 
sure you are. Sit right down with the boys and 
myself and have a lunch.” 

The farmer needed no further invitation. 
Boxes and cans were opened, a coffee-pot was 
soon hanging over a blaze, a frying-pan was 
odorous with fresh steaks, and tinware was scat- 
tered on the grass. 

Only one of the crowd seemed indifferent to 
the meal. It was Ferdinand Eggert, who had 
walked off a short distance, and now returned 
with the best of news. “It’s all right,” he said; 
“it couldn't be better.” 

“What? What couldn’t be better?” one or 
two of the crowd wanted to know. 

“Why, the Chicago Telephone Company 
couldn’t do it better.” 

“Let us hear what it is,” put in Mr. Sherwood. 

“Strong, too ! I climbed one,” went on young 
Eggert. “I could send one fifty miles, or even 
a hundred, and we aren’t twenty from Keese- 
ville.” 

“Oh, he’s talking about the wireless already,” 
moaned Carroll Cage. 


62 The Camp 

‘‘Of course! What else do you want me to 
talk about?’' 

“You had better talk about your dinner, or 
rather you had better sit down here on the grass 
and eat something, for there’s a day’s work to be 
done, with only half a day to do it in,” remon- 
strated Mr. Sherwood. 

As Ferdinand munched at his bread and meat 
he described the two pine trees at least a hun- 
dred and twenty feet apart. The tops were 
blasted and unencumbered, making just the place 
to string his wires. As soon as the instruments 
were ready the farmer promised to drive him to 
Funda, from which he could take a train to the 
wireless station at Keeseville. 

Charlie Zip proved to be a good cook. He 
went at things not only with a will, but, consid- 
ering that he was working under disadvantages, 
prepared the warm lunch in a remarkably short 
time. The boys were too interested to notice 
this, and took it as a matter of fact ; but Charles 
Sherwood was not slow to discover that the 
new cook would be a real treasure for the 
party. 


The Camp 


63 


Farmer Riggs was glad to see that there were 
so many rifles and sporting guns in the crowd, 
for a bear had been making away with his young 
pigs. He could point out the exact spot where 
one of them had been devoured. If the boys 
only had the patience to wait at a place of van- 
tage, they certainly would get a shot. He prom- 
ised to call on the third day, for Mr. Sherwood 
thought it would require two days to get the 
camp ready. 

“Now, boys, for work,” cried out the Gover- 
nor as the farmer left the crowd. 

“I thought that we came on a vacation,” 
yawned Walter as he stretched himself on the 
grass. 

“Vacation is only a change of work,” ex- 
plained the uncle. 

“We are ready,” shouted John Newell and 
Carroll Cage. 

“We’ll be easy on you,” smiled the man, turn- 
ing to Carroll and measuring his slender form 
with his eye. “You can eat and sleep.” 

“I am as strong as that skinny-legs,” replied 
Carroll, pointing toward Walter. 


64 


The Camp 


‘‘We’ll show them that we can carry the ca- 
noe,” contended the latter. 

Up went the light canoe on the shoulders of 
the two little lads. It was just a trifle heavy, 
but, singing as they went, they carried it down 
the narrow trail. 

Several trips were made that afternoon — ^back 
and forth, up and down the trail, until the en- 
tire equipment was safely deposited on the site 
chosen for the camp. It was decided not to 
erect the tents for the first night, as the weather 
was warm and there was no danger of rain. 
In fact, even had it rained, the thick branches 
would have been a sufficient protection. 

Charlie Zip was soon at work preparing for 
supper. A former camping party had made a 
fireplace of concrete and stone, using the cover 
of an old stove. It was ideal in every respect 
and was large enough to cook for a party twice 
the size of the present one. 

“Where did you learn to cook?” asked John 
Newell. 

“Don’t ask too many questions,” interrupted 
the Governor, who had not only kept secret the 


The Camp 


65 

history of the boy’s past, but had cautioned him 
against revealing anything that would ruin his 
good name with the other boys. 

“I had to work all my life,” said Charlie. 
Then, turning to Mr. Sherwood, he continued: 
‘‘These school fellers don’t know what it is to 
work, and what it is to be alone in the world.” 

“I didn’t mean any harm,” explained John. 

“No,” took up the Governor, “we want Charlie 
to feel that he is one of the party — he is one of 
us — that’s what I told you in the beginning, 
wasn’t it, Charlie?” 

“Yes, sir, but I am paid for the work; and I’ll 
do my best for all.” 

“And you can rely on our helping you out,” 
said John, who saw that his inquisitive question 
had slightly disconcerted both the boy and the 
man. 

“I can show you a few things about cookin’,” 
claimed the boy as he turned from the rustic 
stove. “Who knows but what you might need 
it some day; there’s no tellin’ what may happen 
to a feller.” 

“I may have to work, but I’ll never have to 


66 The Camp 

cook my meals except on a picnic,” expostulated 
young Newell. 

“Well, I hope not, partner! I wish you all 
kinds of good luck — but Vs only sayin’ it’s al- 
ways good to get ready for most everything.” 

“If I’m ever hard up, can’t I find other work 
to do?” John wanted to know. 

“Can you? Can you?” asked the young cook, 
still busy with his stove. “Can you always pick 
your own job? Can you? Can you?” 

Mr. Sherwood was pleased to see the serious 
nature of the conversation of the two boys. It 
was just such a talk that John Newell needed, 
and, coming from another boy and one of his 
own age, it had all the more effect. 

“Cooking came in handy for me when I was 
fishing red snappers,” said the Governor. “We 
were out in the Gulf of Mexico in a fishing- 
smack. As the cook took too much to drink, we 
had to send him back to Mobile on a passing 
schooner, and I did the cooking. I had learned 
the trick on just such occasions as we have right 
here. But this time I wanted to spend most of 
my time trout fishing; therefore, I got my young 


The Camp 


67 

friend to help out with the cooking. Speaking 
of this fishing trip to the Gulf of Mexico, we 
had with us a man whom I’ll never forget — 
Captain Walsh, of the fishing-smack. Well, he 
took his turn at everything, made himself happy 
by working for us all — he would fish or cut bait, 
cook or sing, and on the home trip he entertained 
the crowd by dancing the Mobile Grind.” 

‘The Mobile Grind? That’s a new dance on 
me,” interposed John Newell. 

“It is one of those old plantation dances of the 
southern negroes,” explained the Governor. “It 
reminded me of what I read about the Indians' 
snake-dances.” 

John Newell seemed to have taken the hints 
or advice given him, for he picked up an axe 
and began cutting wood for the cook. Mr. Sher- 
wood was equally industrious, driving stakes into 
the ground and nails into the closest trees, on 
which to hang the cooking utensils. 

Long before darkness the bank of the little 
stream began to assume the aspects of a 
camp. 

The wireless man had chosen a place for his 


68 


The Camp 


receiver and was busy making a rough box to 
protect his delicate instruments. 

Walter and Carroll could not resist the temp- 
tation to try their luck at trout fishing, even if 
the Governor had issued orders that the first two 
days were to be devoted to work. Up from the 
stream came a cry of joy as young Cage lifted a 
fine trout from the stream. But his shout of 
triumph was soon changed to one of disappoint- 
ment as the prize dropped from the line. 

It was too dark to fish any more that evening. 
Besides, the crackling fire and the savory smell 
called the boys to camp. 

It was agreed that all were to help the cook 
after supper; and this was to be a part of the 
regular program. 

A short dip in the cool water of Copper River, 
and the party gathered around the welcome 
blaze. Then evening prayers were said, and 
sleep and silence stole over the camp. 

Only the music of the waters was heard be- 
low, while angels played the great, great organ 
of Nature among the pines overhead. 


CHAPTER VII 
Every One His Own Way 

M r. CHARLES SHERWOOD lined up 
the boys on the following morning and 
began to give instructions for the day’s work; 
but before he could finish with his directions there 
was a good-natured riot. Why should they be 
put to work as if school were still in process? 
Office hours should be left in Chicago and not 
transported to the pine forests of upper Michi- 
gan. Walter wanted to try the new canoe. Gee I 
Hadn’t he worked hard enough yesterday in lug- 
ging the canoe for a quarter of a mile ? Carroll 
couldn’t rest until he had recaptured that speckled 
trout. Ferdinand Eggert was sure the world 
would rush to utter destruction unless he had 
his wireless in operation before night. Then he 
needed two to assist him in stringing the wires 
— couldn’t John Newell and Charlie Zip come 
with him? 


69 


70 


Every One His Own Way 

“Well/' said the Governor, looking down at 
the dog, “what are you going to do? Can you 
help me to make the camp and do the cooking?" 

Then the Governor gave in to the universal 
demand, and told each one to do what he wished, 
and as long as he wished — after all, vacation was 
vacation, and all the rest of the year could have 
its order and its grind. 

Charlie Zip did not look on this general favor 
as applying to himself. “De most important 
thing around a camp is de cookin'," he said. 
“Instead of me helpin' Ferd wid de wireless, he 
might help de cook." 

“After the wires are strung and all is in oper- 
ation," agreed the young scientist. 

“I don't mind workin' wid de thing," replied 
Charlie. “I don't see how de thing is goin' to 
bring messages with nothin' to carry 'em." 

“But there is something to carry the mes- 
sages," argued Ferd. “The ether does it; you 
can't see the ether, but it carries the electric wave 
just as well as a wire can do it." 

“Well, I see this new-fangled thing has to go 
up," interposed the Governor, and turning to 


71 


Every One His Own Way 

young Eggert he continued, “take both boys with 
you, take all four — and take the dog. I will be 
the cook to-day.” 

“He won’t take me till I try the canoe,” ob- 
jected Walter. 

“I’ll go after I’ve caught that trout,” said Car- 
roll. 

“You are both too small, and you couldn’t 
dimb the pine trees,” answered the long-legged 
scientist. 

“Why, you can reach to the top,” retorted 
Walter. 

“Off with you! Off with the whole crowd!” 
cried the Governor. 

The lads waited for no second invitation. Car- 
roll was soon digging bait, Walter was looking 
for the canoe paddles, and the scientist was dis- 
playing on the ground before his astonished as- 
sistants all the various parts of a wireless outfit. 

“I knew it,” muttered Charles Sherwood as he 
sat smoking his pipe before entering upon his 
day’s work as cook. “I just knew I’d do the 
cooking. Well, what’s the use of camping if one 
has all the conveniences of home — ^boys are boys ! 


72 Every One His Own Way 

Let ^em have their fun; they’ll be old soon 
enough.” 

Up from the river came a cry and a call for 
help, for the canoe had capsized, throwing Wal- 
ter into the stream beyond his depth. Although 
a fairly good swimmer, he was so encumbered 
with his clothes and taken so completely by sur- 
prise, that he was in real danger. 

Carroll, who was closest to the scene, ran at 
once and leaped for the canoe, which was drift- 
ing some feet from the shore. He balanced him- 
self for a moment, but fell into the water close to 
Walter, while the light craft with the impulse 
given it shot away from the two boys toward the 
middle of the stream. 

The lads struggled for a minute then grasped 
each other tightly. They did not hear the warn- 
ings to separate and swim ashore, nor did they 
realize that a few strokes would have brought 
them to shallow water. 

Ferdinand, with the other two boys, was soon 
on the bank. A glance showed the former that 
the water was not over his head. One plunge 
brought him to Walter and Carroll, where he 


Every One His Own Way 73 

gained his footing and found that the water just 
reached his shoulders. 

‘Xet loose, you little fools!” he shouted as he 
grasped each by the collar. 

Then there was a struggle, and all three went 
under; for the rescuer had slipped on the smooth 
rock bottom of the river. 

When they arose Mr. Sherwood was out in 
the water. With the palm of his hand he dealt 
a blow upon the head of Walter Stanley, who 
chanced to be nearest to him. Stunned for a sec- 
ond the boy relaxed his hold upon his compan- 
ion. 

‘Tull Carroll away !” he shouted to Ferdinand. 

‘T can’t!” 

“Knock his head off!” 

Carroll may have heard the threat in his half- 
conscious state. At any rate he relaxed his grip 
upon his drowning companion, but threw his 
arms around the neck of the taller boy who had 
saved him. 

The boys had swallowed but little water, but 
they were pale and trembling. Carried to the 
bank they sat speechless and motionless. Near 


74 Every One His Own Way 

them were Mr. Sherwood and their three com- 
panions; but they, too, were silent. All realized 
how a trifling incident might have resulted in a 
loss of life. 

Charles Sherwood suddenly got the idea of 
distracting the crowd by giving a formal lecture 
with practical demonstrations on the way of get- 
ting into a canoe. 

^‘Here, boys,'’ said he> “this whole trouble 
came from not knowing how to handle a canoe. 
A canoe is not a dangerous thing, but you must 
know how to get into it, and what to do when 
you have taken your seat. The biggest trick is 
to know how to get into a canoe. You mustn't 
do as Walter did. That is, you mustn't leave 
one end of the canoe on the bank. Why? Be- 
cause with one end on the shore a canoe acts like 
a swivel and the least weight at the other end 
will tilt it to one side." 

“Come down here, one of you boys ; come on, 
John," he continued, turning to young Newell. 

“Do you want me to get drowned?" 

“I want to show you how to keep from drown- 
ing." 


Every One His Own Way 75 

“Will you wade out to get me?” laughed the 
youngster. 

“That won’t be needed. The canoe will hold 
three of your size; only you must know how to 
handle it.” 

“All right, Mr. Sherwood. Fm your scholar.” 

“You boys watch and I will show you how 
easy it is to capsize a canoe when one end is rest- 
ing on the bank.” 

“Hey!” protested young Newell, “I thought 
you were to show us how to keep out of the 
water, and now you say you want to show how 
easy it is to fall into it.” 

“No danger, I will be right there to catch the 
canoe.” 

“Say, Mr. Sherwood, I think this is a trick. 
You are wet and you want to get the laugh on 
me. What do you think, Charlie?” he asked, 
turning to the cook. 

“I’m willin’ to try it,” came the reply. 

“I’ll try, since he asked me first,” young New- 
ell asserted. 

Then all realized for the first time that the 
canoe was not in sight. John Newell and Charlie 


76 Every One His Ozvn Way 

Zip offered to run down the stream and capture 
it. Away they went and overtook it just as it 
was approaching a shallow riffle where the cur- 
rent was quite strong. If the boys waited to un- 
dress, the canoe would be far down the stream. 

‘‘Let us rush out as we are,’’ suggested John. 

“Yes, de others is wet, and we may ’s well 
git a little soakin’.” 

As the water was deeper than it appeared the 
boys got more than a little soaking. In fact, 
they could scarcely keep their footing as the 
canoe came gliding toward them in the swift cur- 
rent ; and as they bent to drag the runaway craft 
ashore they were completely drenched. They 
secured it to the bank, and returned to camp 
dripping, much to the amusement of all those 
who were waiting for them. 

“You little rascal,” said Ferdinand Eggert as 
he picked up Dover. “You are the only dry 
member of the party and you’ve got to get a 
ducking.” 

With these words he cast the dog ovef the 
bank into the river. 

Then all laughed as Dover swam ashore. 


77 


Every One His Own Way 

The whole camp now took on the appearance 
of wash-day, as the wet clothes were strung out 
on branches and bushes. 

It was agreed that the party had enough of the 
water for one day and that Mr. Sherwood could 
defer his lessons to some other time. This ar- 
rangement fell in with Ferdinand’s plans, as all 
would now be free to help in the construction 
of the wireless. But little could be done that day, 
as most of the time was spent in erecting the 
two tents. One of these was to be used for the 
kitchen, the other for sleeping quarters. 

Toward evening a man came up the river. He 
was a mysterious individual, low of stature, dark 
featured, and with a heavy mustache. He looked 
over the camp and at each of the party without 
saying a word or asking a question. 

When Mr. Sherwood asked him why he had 
visited them he simply replied that he was pass- 
ing up the river. He accepted, however, an in- 
vitation to take supper with the crowd. He gave 
no information about himself, but, after going 
into each tent, slipped away as quietly as he had 


come. 


78 Every One His Own JVay 

That night John Newell came to the Governor 
and whispered that some one had taken his five- 
dollar bill. 

“That is strange/’ said Mr. Sherwood, “the 
lady in the car lost five dollars and now you lose 
the same amount. Keep the matter quiet — say 
nothing to any one — ^let me think it over.” 

A few minutes later he called his nephew. 
“Walter,” he asked, “wh6re have you got your 
money?” 

“In the valise.” 

“Go over there quietly, and see whether it is 
there.” 

The boy returned in a few minutes. He was 
excited. Not a cent could he find in his valise. 

“Say nothing about it for the present,” were 
the words of the uncle. 

A few minutes later Charles Sherwood turned 
and looked at Charlie Zip who was busy in front 
of the stove, with the full red flare in his face. 

“I wonder whether I have made a mistake?” 
mused the man. He looked again and then 
turned away. “That boy has an honest face,” 
he thought, “and I like him more every day.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


The First Message 

‘*TT IS all right/’ said Mr. Sherwood, “and I 

X take off my hat to you.” With these words 
he bowed low to the scientist. The boys gath- 
ered around Ferdinand Eggert, and in imitation 
of the Governor made the same bow with much 
solemnity. 

In fact, young Eggert had proved hirnself 
worthy of the congratulations, for there above 
him from pine to pine were stretched the six 
wires, taut and steady. Not a nail had been 
driven into the trees. Stretching the wires 
seemed so very simple after the work was fin- 
ished. 

It was eleven o’clock of the second day of 
camping. On the previous afternoon Ferdinand 
Eggert had cut and trimmed two pieces of wood 
six feet long and the thickness of a scantling. 
To each of these he had fastened six glass insu- 
lators a foot apart. On the level bank of the 


79 


8o 


The First Message 


river the wooden supports were placed a hundred 
feet from each other, and light aluminum wires 
were stretched from the insulators. Strong and 
heavy wires about twelve feet in length were 
fastened to each end of the wood and stretched 
out in the form of a V. 

This much of the wireless outfit could easily 
be carried along the narrow path to the top of 
the hill. 

All the members of the party went to take part 
in raising the wires, although no one, not even 
Mr. Sherwood, had the slightest idea of the sci- 
entist’s plans. 

“It is just half an hour’s work,” said Ferdi- 
nand as they paused beneath one of the trees. 
As no one contradicted him or even replied, he 
began at once to give directions to Charlie Zip, 
who was just then nearest him. “Bring the wires 
over here, so as to keep away from the branches 
of the tree.” 

“You’re de boss,” replied Charlie, as he 
obeyed orders. 

“A little further — there — there. We will not 


touch a branch.” 



“pull — ONE, TWO, three!” — PAGE 82, 






I 



t 




* 




* • 





I * 


« 

I 


« 







h 

« 


f 


\ 



The First Message 8i 

“Put it down here?” Charlie wanted to 
know. 

“Just the place,” and Ferdinand took a second 
look to see whether they would be clear of all 
obstruction. 

“Who is the best climber here?” the scientist 
wanted to know, as he took from his pocket a 
ball of twine to which he had already tied a small 
stone. 

“Your uncle used to be when he was young,” 
put in Mr. Sherwood. 

“I would like to have some one whom I can 
boss,” replied young Eggert, “but if you will 
wait we’ll need your strength and weight to 
stretch the wire.” 

“Then I’ll sit here and watch.” 

John Newell thought he would have no diffi- 
culty in climbing the pine, so he put the twine 
in his pocket and began to mount the tree. It 
was not a difficult task, as the branches reached 
close to the ground. 

“Keep going; just as high as you can!” 
shouted Ferdinand from below. 

Up and up went the boy. Then he yelled 


82 


The First Message 


back : “There^s only one big limb above me ; and 
it’s mighty high up here.” 

‘Take a good hold and let one end of the twine 
come down.” 

Soon the little stone came creeping through 
the branches to the ground. 

Unfastening the stone and attaching the end 
of a strong rope to the twine the scientist gave 
orders to John to pull. 

The rope, thus drawn up, was thrown over 
this upper limb. “Right down and pull the rope 
after you,” shouted Eggert. One end of the rope 
was now attached to the heavy V-shaped wire, 
while two of the boys were asked to pull the 
other end slowly. In the meanwhile two other 
boys kept the six wires free from the branches. 

The same process was repeated with the next 
pine. The wireless outfit swung between the two 
trees and clear of all branches. 

One of the ropes was fastened to a lower limb, 
then all hands were needed to pull on the other 
rope so as to stretch the wires. Here Mr. Sher- 
wood was asked to take a part. 

“Pull — one, two, three! Now, again — one. 


The First Message 83 

two, three! Again — one, two, three!” The 
heavy rope was rasping against the large limb 
over which it had been drawn, but there was lit- 
tle friction and since the process was slow there 
was no heat developed. 

^'Get off of my foot!” suddenly shouted John 
Newell to Charlie Zip. 

“Pardon me,” said the offender. 

“Fll knock your head off!” 

“Not if I knows it !” and young Zip broke his 
resolution not to use profane language. 

“Here! Here!” cried the Governor. “None 
of that talk.” Mr. Sherwood, who had noticed 
several remarks made by John Newell in ref- 
erence to the cook, realized that a feeling of ani- 
mosity was growing up between them. He had 
no time, however, to think over the matter, for 
the orders of the boy scientist came again. 
“Pull — one, two, three! Pull — one, two, three!” 

“Hold it tight, until I go out and take a look 
at it,” continued Ferdinand. “Boys, it’s fine,” 
he shouted, as he walked from tree to tree, “not 
a branch has caught, and the wires are almost 
straight the whole distance. But let us give a 


The First Message 


84 

last pull and get it just a trifle better. All hands 
pull — one, two, three! Pull — one, two, three! 
There!” 

The rope was secured on the lower limb of the 
tree. 

Only one thing remained. Two smaller wires 
which had been fastened at the lower end of the 
V’s were now secured to pegs driven in the 
ground and held the pieces of wood perpendicu- 
lar in the air. 

The wires which led to the instrument were 
left dangling. 

Then all came midway between the two trees, 
and here it was that Mr. Charles Sherwood re- 
moved his hat and with a profound bow saluted 
the boy genius — a salutation that was repeated 
by all the friends of Ferdinand Eggert. 

The party now returned to camp for lunch, 
after which the work of bringing the lead wires 
down the hill and along the path was begun. 

It was comparatively easy, as it was not neces- 
sary to keep the wires above reach, and the trees 
formed natural posts. 

Long before dark Ferdinand was sitting at his 


The First Message 85 

instrument ready to send or receive messages. 
For some minutes he waited, adjusting every 
delicate part. He wished to get a message be- 
fore sending one. As everything seemed in 
working order, the scientist thought that he 
would pick up the first message within a radius 
of fifty, possibly a hundred miles. 

But no message came. “Well, here goes our 
first message to the world. What shall it be?’' 
he asked. 

“S.O.S. Ship off shore,” replied the Governor. 

“Now, if I am arrested for sending such news 
it will be your fault,” said Ferdinand. “But 
here it goes.” 

Twenty miles away at the government light- 
house and wireless station at Keeseville, the op- 
erator was nodding in his chair. Suddenly his 
instrument clicked and his trained ear caught the 
call for help : “S. O. S. Ship off Shore.” 

“Where?” he flashed back. 

“Northeast, southwest of nowhere.” 

“Don’t you know that you can be fined five 
hundred dollars for sending out false alarms?” 
the operator asked. 


86 


The First Message 


“But you can’t catch me.” 

“We’ll see.” 

“Say, I beg your pardon!” was the answer 
sent back by Ferdinand, for he realized that he 
had made a mistake, and that the government 
regulations and fine were strictly enforced. “We 
just set up this new instrument and that S. O. S. 
was the first thing that came to my mind. Don’t 
report me, I want to be your friend.” 

“Where are you?” came the inquiry. 

“On Copper River, twelve miles from Funda.” 

“At Riggs’ camp?” 

“Yes.” 

“Who are you?” 

“A camping party of five from Chicago.” 

“Are you a regular operator on your vaca- 
tion?” For the boy was so rapid in his work 
that he was judged a professional. 

“No, only an academy boy.” 

“How is the trout fishing?” the government 
man wanted to know. 

“We have not tried yet.” 

“If I come to your camp will you take me 
fishing ?” 


The First Message 87 

'‘Sure, sure, come right on any day, stay a 
day or stay a week/' 

“Thanks, you may expect me on Sunday. 
Good-bye I" 

“Good-bye!" signaled Ferdinand. “I am glad 
that fellow wasn’t a crank. If he had sent in 
my name to the government there’d have been 
trouble," said the boy to his companions. 

“Why didn’t you ask him for the baseball 
score?" put in Walter Stanley. 

“Let us see whether he has a paper," and with 
this remark the scientist turned on the current. 

Communication was again established and 
soon the results of the games for the last two 
days were pinned against a tree. The govern- 
ment operator in his lonesome station seemed 
only too glad to find some one with whom to 
communicate, and was most willing to send news 
at any time. On the following morning and on 
each of the succeeding days he was the first to 
ring up and communicate the news. 

After supper Farmer Riggs came to the camp 
with the announcement that a bear was again 
after his hogs. Did the boys want some real 


88 


The First Message 


sport ? Here was a chance to kill big game. Mr. 
Sherwood was most anxious to go, but felt it 
his duty to stay at the camp. With his permis- 
sion, Ferdinand Eggert and John Newell went 
back with the farmer to try their luck. 


CHAPTER IX 


Young Hunters 

W HEN the two boys had departed with 
Farmer Riggs, Charles Sherwood sent 
the rest of the party down the river to bathe and 
canoe. He himself had remained behind, for he 
felt it his duty to make a thorough examination 
of the camp to find, if possible, some traces of 
the stolen money. He succeeded in opening 
every valise, emptied and searched every box, 
felt into the pockets of all the clothes, but found 
nothing.) He did not believe that the visitor 
had stolen anything, for although the latter had 
gone into the tents, he scarcely had time to pil- 
fer. Here, then, was a cause for anxiety; there 
was a thief in the party. 

In the meantime the young hunters had 
reached the home of Farmer Riggs. It was only 
as they came near the house that they discovered 
Dover trotting quietly behind them. Dover was 
entirely too small to hunt bears, but was large 
89 


90 


Young Hunters 


enough to frighten them away. To prevent his 
going astray or frightening the game he was 
locked up in the barn for the night. 

The farmer took the boys out in the pasture 
and showed them the pen where the bear had 
made the raid. 

‘‘Are you sure it was a bear?” Ferdinand 
wanted to know. 

“Til show you his tracks down near the 
fence,” and he explained the difference between 
the tracks of a bear and a wolf. 

Some two hundred feet away, where the fence 
had been broken. Farmer Riggs pointed out the 
tracks of the thief. A few minutes’ walk 
brought them into the thick woods where a part 
of a pig was seen lying on the ground. 

“The bear will be back after that part either 
to-night or to-morrow night. If he had a real 
good meal he may wait until to-morrow night, 
otherwise you can expect him right here before 
midnight. Both wolves and bears always come 
back to finish up anything they’ve left behind.” 

“Well, he won’t finish us up, too,” said John 
Newell. 


91 


Young Hunters 

‘^ril put you where he can’t get at you. Let 
us find out the direction of the wind,” he con- 
tinued, as he lit a match and lighted some dry 
leaves. 

As the wind came from the east, a position 
was selected about forty feet west of the car- 
cass. 

Farmer Riggs now showed the boys a trick in 
woodcraft. With a hand axe he cut a number 
of saplings eight feet in length. Then, with 
pieces of rope he tied these saplings to small 
trees ; and on top of them secured other branches, 
making a platform ten feet from the ground. 

The boys stood in admiration of the work, the 
rapidity with which it was done, and the strength 
of the structure. Here they could spend the 
night, free from all danger of attack. 

Moreover, a clearing was made between the 
platform and the pig’s carcass to give the young 
hunters a view of the game. They were assured 
that even in the night they would be able to see 
the outline of the bear if it came to devour the 
rest of its prey. 

Toward dusk the farmer left the two boys. 


92 


Young Hunters 


They ate a light lunch, which they had brought, 
then settled down for the long night’s watch. 

Their quiet vigil, however, was soon disturbed. 
Far away in the woods was heard the call of 
some wild animal. Was it a bear or a wolf? The 
boys did not know. But it was an unfriendly 
voice; it seemed to challenge their right to re- 
main where they were ; it seemed to cry for help ; 
it seemed to summon others from the still deeper 
recesses of the forest. It was a sound that suited 
the night; a sound that came forth from the 
world of darkness. It was not loud, and al- 
though sharp it was plaintive. 

Soon there was a similar sound — a distant re- 
ply. Then the voices were closer, and a third 
was heard. Soon the woods seemed full of the 
voices ; they were sadder now and more plaintive. 

“A pack of wolves!” muttered John Newell. 

‘T’m glad we’re on this platform,” whispered 
Ferdinand Eggert. 

“Let us fire our guns to frighten ’em away,” 
suggested John. 

“No! You might scare the bear; the wolves 
can’t hurt us.” 


93 


Young Hunters 

“Are you sure? I read a story of Dick Ons- 
low, and the wolves stuck their heads right into 
the tent/’ 

*^Yes, but this isn’t a tent; they’ll have to climb 
a tree to get us.” 

“Perhaps they can leap up.” 

“If it gets dangerous,” exclaimed Ferdinand, 
“then it’ll be time to fire.” 

With their guns ready for action the boys sat 
and waited. The sounds of the voices came 
closer and closer. Sometimes they resembled a 
moan ; again a sharp cry Came from the woods. 

“Look !” said Ferdinand, grasping the arm of 
his companion, “I see two bright eyes moving 
there below us.” 

“Shoot!” directed John. 

“No! Let us wait until the pack comes up; 
perhaps each of us can kill a wolf.” 

“That’ll bring us five dollars each,” came the 
subdued answer. 

“I don’t feel scared,*” mumbled young Eg- 
gert, “still my hand is trembling. I can’t see the 
bright eyes any more,” he continued, “but I hear 
more coming.” 


94 


Young Hunters 


Barking and growling could now be distinct- 
ly heard; but it was very difficult to catch the 
outlines of the figures moving among the 
pines. 

“They must be near the pig/' whispered Ferdi- 
nand, “let us both shoot in that direction.” Just 
as they were preparing to fire, a flash lit up the 
woods near the fence, followed by the report of 
a gun. 

“Halloo, boys!” came the voice of Farmer 
Riggs, “don’t you hear them foxes?” 

“We thought they were wolves,” answered 
John Newell. 

“No, they’re foxes. I forgot to tell you that 
foxes often followed in the trail of wolves and 
bears, and eat any meat left behind. They evi- 
dently scented the young pig.” 

The boys were assured that the little pests 
would not return again. The farmer went back 
to his house, and the watch for the bear was 
resumed. 

Hour after hour passed by, until wearied by 
the long vigil both young hunters fell asleep. 
When they awoke, the cedar-birds were singing 


Young Hunters 95 

overhead. There before them was the carcass of 
the pig untouched. 

That same night Mr. Charles Sherwood had 
been awakened by a noise in the kitchen tent. 
Pans and dishes, buckets and pails, were being 
thrown around recklessly. At first he thought 
it was early morning and that Charlie Zip had 
begun to prepare for breakfast. But there was 
the cook fast asleep. 

Rifle in hand the Governor crept out of his 
tent. Then he saw a dark object pushing aside 
the curtains of the kitchen tent. 

‘‘Halt, there!” cried the Governor, bringing 
his rifle to his shoulder. 

But the object moved on until, with its figure 
silhouetted upon the water, it was easily recog- 
nized as a bear. 

“Crack I” went the repeating rifle, and the bear 
rolled over. The Governor waited ready for an- 
other shot, but as the animal did not move he 
went for a lantern. An examination proved 
that the bear had been shot through the heart. 

We may well imagine the surprise of the two 
young hunters when they returned to the camp 


g6 Young Hunters 

tired and sleepy after the night’s watching. 
Hanging on the branch of a tree was the prize 
which the Governor had killed. 

''Halloo, boys !” he cried, "where is your 
bear ?” 

"We sent him down here to you,” replied Fer- 
dinand. "We gave up bear hunting and went 
after foxes.” 

"You mean they went after us,” John Newell 
blurted out. 

Then each .party rehearsed the experiences of 
the night. 

"You are the cause of this mix-up,” said Fer- 
dinand, turning to Dover. "If you had stayed 
at home, where you belonged, the bear would 
have been frightened away to us.” But Dover 
only walked over to the kitchen to get his break- 
fast, as if well contented with the night’s ex- 
perience. 

"Well, boys,” asserted the Governor, "we are 
sure now that the bear is dead ; had it gone where 
you were hiding, it might now be free and ready 
to eat more young pigs. So Dover did a wise 
thing.” 


Young Hunters 97 

“If the bear had made as much noise as those 
foxes,” replied John Newell, “we’d have been too 
excited to shoot straight.” 

Just then the wireless ticked, and the operator 
gave the boys the results of the ball games in 
Chicago on the previous day. 

“Do you want to buy a bear?” Ferdinand sig- 
nalled. 

“How large is it?” 

“About seven feet high,” came the response, 
after Ferdinand had taken a glance at the bear 
as it dangled from the tree branch. 

“That’s a fish story, and not a bear story.” 

“Just wait a moment,” for Mr. Sherwood had 
gone over to get the exact measurements. “Four 
feet and nine inches,” was the reply. 

“There’s not a bear that large in Michigan.” 

As Ferdinand insisted that the measurement 
was correct, the operator instructed him to skin 
the animal carefully and put the hide in strong 
salt water. He himself would come over in a 
few days and judge whether the hide had any 
marketable value. 


CHAPTER X 
The Trout Stream 


LTHOUGH Charles Sherwood had come 



IjL to Copper River to enjoy trout fishing he 
had not as yet found time to begin the sport. He 
had on former vacations landed many a black 
bass and pickerel when fishing in the lakes of 
Wisconsin; but trout fishing was known to him 
only by information gathered from magazines 
and stories. He had consulted expert fishermen 
and had provided himself with the latest and best 
outfit for casting. Moreover, he had been prac- 
tising casting in the river in front of the camp, 
although he knew that all trout had been fright- 
ened far away. 

'‘This is my day for trout fishing,” said he to 
the boys at breakfast. “I’m going to take only 
one companion — ^he must be a boy who talks but 
little and who makes no noise.” 

John Newell disappeared under the table; 


The Trout Stream 


99 


Walter Stanley claimed that he had not broken 
the rule of silence during the whole year at 
school. Ferdinand Eggert offered to write home 
and get a ribbon, which had been awarded to 
him for a perfect observance of silence. Carroll 
Cage, smiling with that smile which had won 
him a vacation, just looked at the Governor and 
smiled. 

“Carroll and myself will go trout fishing,’’ 
said Mr. Sherwood. “I think he can keep si- 
lence, and that smile will not frighten any trout.” 

“Take two of us,” pleaded Walter. 

“Never,” asserted the Governor, “not only 
would you frighten away the fish, but we’d be in 
each other’s way — lines would get tangled and 
so forth and so on.” 

“I’ll let Walter go,” said Carroll. 

“Walter has nothing to say about the matter,” 
replied the Governor. “I have picked you and 
there the matter ends.” 

“But I never caught a fish in my life.” 

“So much the more fun to catch your first fish 
to-day.” 

Preparations were soon finished, and Charles 


lOO 


The Trout Stream 


Sherwood and his youthful companion were off 
for the day’s sport. “I wish these trout were 
just a little larger,” said the man as they strolled 
down the narrow path. “Of course they are 
game fish, and fight for all they are worth; but 
they can’t make the same fight that a black bass 
or a pickerel can. When you have a four pound 
bass at the end of your line you know he is there ; 
and when you hook an eight or ten pound pick- 
erel you may have to tug a long time before you 
are sure of your prize. But these river trout 
weigh only about a pound, even the largest. 
However, it is considered game sport, and I’ve 
come to try it.” 

Creeping cautiously toward a pool, Mr. Sher- 
wood prepared to make his first cast. 

“Where is your cork?” asked the boy, who had 
seen a picture of two boys fishing in a small 
stream. 

“You don’t need a cork, for if there are any 
trout around they’ll leap for your fly as soon as 
it touches the water.” 

“I’ll watch you for a while,” said Carroll, post- 
ing himself where he could get a good view. 


The Trout Stream 


lOI 


“There !” cried the Governor, “they have seen 
you and that has frightened them all away.” 

“So you can’t talk and can’t be seen,” the boy 
remarked as he climbed back from the place. 

“No, not when trout fishing.” 

“Gee ! I don’t see any fun in it then !” 

“You wait until they begin to bite, and you’ll 
forget about talking,” explained the Governor. 

“I knew a boy who always talked during class, 
and kept silence during recess,” whispered the 
boy. 

“Just keep one eye over the bank,” said Mr. 
Sherwood, scarcely noticing the remark, “we’ll 
soon see whether you have frightened the fish 
away.” 

As the cast struck the water a speckled trout 
leaped for it; and before Walter had taken his 
position to observe the fisherman, the latter had 
landed his first prize. 

The boy was about to rush toward the fish, 
but was warned to keep his place. Soon a sec- 
ond, and a third were added to the catch. 
Then for half an hour the man cast but got no 
bite. 


102 


The Trout Stream 


“Let us try another pool/' suggested Mr. 
Sherwood. 

The man and boy now experienced that va- 
riety and zest that is characteristic of trout fish- 
ing. They were compelled at times to crawl 
down into deep ravines from which the daylight 
was all but excluded; they crossed a gully on a 
fallen tree; they worked their way through thick 
bushes; and were forced by rough boulders to 
turn a hundred feet or more from the stream. 
Carroll tarried at times to gather some delicate 
ferns, or pluck thimble berries — red and tempt- 
ing, and resembling raspberries of more southern 
markets. 

“It’s exciting to land a twelve pound red snap- 
per in the Gulf of Mexico,” mused Mr. Sher- 
wood as he trudged along, “but one must sit 
idly waiting for the fish to come. There’s real 
sport in catching bass in northern lakes ; but here, 
too, one often rows along monotonously near the 
feeding-places of the fish. In trout fishing 
there’s never a moment of rest, for no trout 
stream has a level bank along which one can 
wander. Fallen trees, thick brush, bogs, creeks, 


The Trout Stream 


103 


precipices, and boulders — all these obstruct the 
way and make a day of sport one of constant 
exercise. Even when a trout pool is reached one 
must often crouch beneath branches, bend out 
over fallen trees, or take some other cramped 
position in order to cast. Then it requires 
quickness and dexterity to make a land and avoid 
entangling, one's lines among the overhanging 
boughs." 

Despite mishaps, and loss of flies and lines, 
Mr. Sherwood was more than lucky. Master 
Cage was touched with pity when he saw his 
first trout lying safely on the bank at his feet. 

During the noon lunch, when Carroll wore an 
unusual smile of satisfaction, Mr. Sherwood ap- 
proached the subject which he had i .1 mind, when 
he had selected his day's companion. 

‘‘Carroll," said he, “how much money did you 
bring with you?" 

“Just a little." 

“Where do you keep it?" 

“I must have lost it all," acknowledged the 
boy. 

“And where was it?" 


104 Trout Stream 

‘In my pants pocket — the one I wore on the 
trip from Chicago, and left in the tent/’ 

“When did you lose the money?” 

“I don’t know, sir, I felt for it the other day 
and it was gone.” 

“Perhaps the man who came to the camp took 
it,” suggested the Governor. 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

“Why do you say that you lost it?” 

“Well, it’s gone, and I didn’t think any one 
here would steal it.” 

“Let me ask you something, Carroll, do you 
like Charlie Zip?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Do you think he would steal?” 

“No, sir!” and the answer came so quick and 
true that it left no doubt in the mind of Mr. 
Sherwood. 

“Neither do I,” added the man. “He was a 
stranger when he came with us; but he has 
worked faithfully. I believe that he is a good 
boy and an honest boy.” 

One of the trout lying in the basket beside the 
boy leaped over the edge, “Poor little thing,” 


The Trout Stream 


los 

muttered the boy pathetically, as he replaced the 
fish. 

“I like to see boys tender-hearted, but fish 
don’t suffer much,” explained the man. 

“How do you like Johni Newell?” he con- 
tinued. 

Carroll Cage did not answer. 

Just then there was a rattling noise across the 
river. “Do you know the name of that bird?” 
asked the man, as he pointed toward a dead limb. 

“No, sir.” 

“Well, he’s no relation of yours, and I don’t 
think he could keep the rules of silence very 
long. That’s a kingfisher — the noisiest bird that 
I know. Still I like the bird ; it’s a real compan- 
ion.” 

The kingfisher seemed to understand the com- 
pliment, for it screamed and called until its mate 
came up, and then the two sat talking to the 
friendly fisherman and boy across the stream. 
Or were they complaining that they could not 
get even one, of the basket full of fish, to feed 
the little family of kingfishers hid snugly away 
in the soft bank down the river? 


io6 The Trout Stream 

‘'So you don't like John Newell," resumed the 
Governor. 

“I don’t know him very well," came the timid 
reply. 

“Well, I’m glad that you haven’t said anything 
against him," put in the Governor, as if guilty 
of leading the boy into detraction. “That’s 
right, Carroll, never talk against any one. If you 
don’t like a person, just keep away from him. 
But we have had a long rest and a good lunch. 
Let us try our luck again with the trout." 

The fishermen met with various accidents that 
afternoon. Carroll fell from a log into a bog 
and had to be rescued by the Governor, who in 
turn slipped from a root into the river. But 
the sport went on despite these trifling mishaps. 
Moreover, Carroll Cage became not only friend- 
ly but talkative. He asked the names of flowers, 
and trees, and birds ; wanted to know more about 
trout than his companion could answer, ex- 
pressed his delight when either made a fine catch. 

Finally the Governor turned to him and said 
in a good-natured way: “Carroll, it took me all 
the morning to start you talking; now I am 


The Trout Stream 


107 


afraid that Til not be able to stop you. You are 
just as bad as those two kingfishers — in fact, 
kingfisher should be your name;’' and for the 
rest of the day silent and smiling Carroll Cage 
was called the “Kingfisher,” a name that the 
other boys fastened permanently upon their com- 
panion. 


CHAPTER XI 

The Man From Down the River 

J OHN NEWELL was a thief. He had stolen 
the watch and money from the woman in 
the train; he had stolen from his friend, Walter 
Stanley; he had stolen the little change that 
Carroll Cage had brought. When he reported 
to Mr. Sherwood that he himself had been 
robbed, it was simply a ruse to throw suspicion 
on Charlie Zip. But these were not the first 
thefts of which he was guilty. 

John Newell felt uneasy. Every time that 
smiling Carroll Cage looked into his face he 
turned away as if the latter was reading the guilt 
in his breast. Finally, John began to avoid the 
crowd and go out into the woods alone. In fact, 
it was in the woods, beneath a flat rock, that he 
had concealed his hidden treasure. On the night 
when he had stolen the watch and money, he had 
managed to slip them into the grip containing 
io8 


The Man From Down the River 109 

a part of the wireless outfit of Ferdinand Eggert, 
and had removed them during the hurry of 
changing cars at Keeseville. 

More than a week had passed since the party 
came to Copper River, and John Newell con- 
tinued to go alone into the woods and, miser- 
like, to lift the stone and examine his riches. 

One day, while he was counting his money, 
he felt a hand upon his shoulder. ‘‘Don’t get 
frightened,” said a voice. 

The boy turned and saw, bending over him, 
the man from down the river. 

“I could have stolen that beautiful watch and 
the money,” said the man. 

“How did you know where they were?” 

“I’ve been watching you for three days.” 

“Why?” asked the affrighted boy. 

“Not to steal, for I could have done that the 
first day. But you stole that watch and money.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Keep cool,” said the man; “I’m not going to 
hurt you or take anything from you. No boy 
would come out in this dark woods and hide 
such a beautiful watch unless he had stolen it.” 


no The Man From Down the River 

‘‘I didn’t steal,” snapped the boy. ‘‘But some 
one in that camp has been stealing, and I had to 
hide my things.” 

“I’ll give you five dollars,” said the man, “if 
you’ll come with me and show that watch to the 
man in your camp.” 

“I won’t ; it’s none of your business !” and John 
Newell emphasized his words with an oath. 

“I’m a thief, too,” asserted the man from down 
the river. “Listen, I’ve been stealing — stealing 
big things — heavy things ; not your little watches 
and your five-dollar bills, but big things — ^heavy 
things — things worth thousands. I need some 
one to help me, some one whom I can trust. 
That’s what I came to the camp for. I wanted to 
try out that fellow who is with you boys. But 
he looked too square, and I saw he wouldn’t do. 
Then I saw you going out in the woods, and I 
watched you. When you left I came here and 
found the watch and money. I could’ve taken 
them, but I just waited to get a look at you, for 
you are a little young for the big thing that I 
need.” 

“What big thing?” asked John curiously 


The Man From Down the River iii 

as he slipped the watch and money into his 
pocket. 

“Oh, a very big thing,” replied the man. 

“What can I do? I am only a boy.” 

“Yes, but you have experience.” 

“In what?” 

“In stealing.” 

“I tell you, sir— I didn’t ” 

“Don’t lie, boy, don’t lie. I’ve been stealing, 
but I never lied about it.” 

“I didn’t steal.” 

“Then, come over and show the money and 
watch to the man at the camp.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Of course you won’t. It’s stolen property.” 

“You just said that you stole.” 

“Yes, and I’m owning up to it. I am looking 
for another thief. It is an old saying that it 
takes one thief to catch another; but I believe it 
takes one thief to help another. Sit down and 
let me tell you a story — a real story — one that 
will open your eyes.” 

John’s curiosity was aroused. In his heart he 
felt that his protests of innocence were weak. 


1 12 The Man From Down the River 

and that the man knew his guilt. He submis- 
sively seated himself on the stone which he had 
used to cover his ill-gotten property. 

^‘Listen ! Four years ago I began stealing cop- 
per from the stamping-mill of the Copper River 
Mine. Once or twice a week I would take as 
much as I could carry and bring it into a rocky 
gully half a mile from the mill. I have thou- 
sands of pounds hid there. Then the theft was 
discovered, but no one knew how much had been 
taken. That was four years ago. Shippers and 
buyers were notified. Every bar of copper is 
stamped with the name of the mine, and it’s im- 
possible to sell it without being caught. That’s 
why I had to keep the thing quiet for four years. 
I was under suspicion for a long time, and even 
when I went to a city I was afraid of being 
watched, so my copper has remained here. I 
don’t like to trust this matter to a boy, but since 
you are in this stealing business you may as well 
make several hundred dollars. If I am ever go- 
ing to sell this copper, it’s time to do it now. 
Come, and I’ll show you the treasure.” 

This time John had permitted the man to ac- 


The Man From Down the River 113 

cuse him of stealing and had not protested. He 
sat unmoved, however, doubting what to do. 

'‘Come, come !” repeated the man, as John hesi- 
tated. 

"How far is it?” he wanted to know. 

"Some distance from the river. We must 
start at once or it will be dark before we get 
back to the camp.” 

"I will go with you, if you wish,” said the boy 
almost in a whisper. 

"But first you must acknowledge that you stole 
the watch and money,” insisted the man. 

"Is that any of your business?” asked the boy 
with forced aggressiveness. 

"Yes, it is my business. I have told you that 
I have robbed a copper mine. I am even going 
to show you the stolen copper. I am going to 
give you money for helping me. I want some- 
thing against you, just as you have something 
against me. I want to know for my own pro- 
tection. Thieves help each other, but they never 
trust each other. You stole 

"I can't deny it any longer/' acknowledged 
John dolefully. 


1 14 The Man From Down the River 

knew it all the time/’ affirmed the stranger. 
‘‘We are thieves and partners. Come, let us in- 
spect our stolen wealth.” 

The two started off, John Newell bringing 
with him his watch and the money. The man 
gave his name as George Rivers. He had stud- 
ied mining engineering at college and seemed 
well educated. He got from the boy the facts 
that he was most anxious to know, namely, that 
John Newell belonged to a representative family 
in Chicago. This was helpful to Rivers as a 
matter of protection. It would be necessary for 
him to trust his accomplice with the receipts of 
the entire amount of the sale. If young Newell 
belonged to a respectable family, the man could 
threaten exposure in case he did not get his part 
of the dividends. 

John Newell all but lost his courage as he fol- 
lowed the man along the winding paths through 
the dark woods. Perhaps the man intended to 
murder him and take his watch and money, and 
only wanted to get him at a distance from the 
camp! His heart seemed suddenly to stop beat- 
ing when a rain-crow darted out of the thick 


The Man From Down the River 115 

foliage. But he could not turn back now, as he 
was in the power of the man. 

After an hour's tramp George Rivers paused, 
threw aside a few logs, went further into the 
gully, lifted some rough boards and displayed to 
the astonished boy the treasure of copper. There 
it was — bar upon bar, thousands of pounds. It 
looked like rough gold, and was wondrously 
beautiful. 

‘We are partners," said the man ; “you be my 
agent in Chicago, and I will see that the copper 
reaches the city." 

As it was getting toward dusk, the man and 
boy started back to the camp, on the way the 
former giving his instructions to his young ac- 
complice. 

On returning to Chicago young Newell was 
to look up some factory where a large amount of 
copper was needed. He was to offer to deliver 
several thousand pounds within four months. In 
the meanwhile Rivers would bargain with a lum- 
ber boat to carry the treasure to the city. John 
Newell would hire a wagon; deliver the copper, 
and collect for it; he would send seventy-five per 


ii6 The Man From Down the River 

cent, of the receipts to Rivers and keep twenty- 
five as a commission. 

“I am going to be perfectly frank with you,” 
explained the man as they walked along. ‘‘I 
have no way of binding you. It is possible for 
you to sell the copper and keep the entire amount. 
In that case, I’ll have to expose your theft or 
turn upon your family. In doing so, I will also 
confess my guilt, but I will bring disgrace upon 
you and your people. From what you say, you 
can’t afford to let this happen.” 

‘‘I see it,” acknowledged the young culprit, 
‘'but you already know that I have stolen, and 
can disgrace me at any time, if you wish.” 

“That I can. I would never have approached 
you on this matter if I had not found that you 
were already in the business.” 

As it grew dark, John Newell stumbled along 
after the man. Every tread of his foot seemed 
to awake an echo. The low, sad bark of a fox 
broke in upon the silence. Time and again he 
looked back to see whether any one was follow- 
ing them. 


The Man From Down the River 117 

“There is the camp/' said the man, pointing 
to a glow in the bushes. 

“I didn't know we were so close," muttered 
the boy. 

They shook hands and separated. 

John Newell dashed through the dark woods! 
All around seemed unfamiliar! A deep gully 
was between him and the fire, and there were 
boulders and fallen logs, which forced him to 
change his direction. On reaching the top of 
the hill he paused, not knowing which way to 
go. He called aloud, hoping to bring back the 
man or to attract those at the camp. No an- 
swer came, but the echoes from the pines. Only 
one who has been lost in a woods at night can 
realize the feeling of bewilderment which came 
upon him. He called again in almost a wild cry 
of despair; but the echoes were so weird and 
ghostlike that he feared the reverberations of his 
own voice. He climbed upon a rock, saw only 
the dense trees and gathering darkness around 
him. Then he dashed madly into the woods ; but 
the underbrush was so thick, and all was so 
strange that he turned and ran back to the hill 


Il8 The Man From Down the River 

at the top of the gully. Here again he was con- 
fused, for he could not find the rock which he 
had mounted only a few minutes before. There 
before him was a pine-tree, with its branches 
reaching to the ground. Up he climbed, with his 
heart beating as if some huge, black monster 
were reaching with its claws to seize him. 

In the meanwhile there was excitement in the 
camp. Guns were fired, and pine branches were 
kept burning. Mr. Sherwood forbade the boys 
to go far into the woods to search, for he knew 
how easy it was for them to get beyond hearing 
or the range of the camp-fire. 

Two of the party went to ask Farmer Riggs 
whether young Newell had been to his house; 
and Ferdinand inquired of the operator at Keese- 
ville, who in turn asked the ticket agent whether 
a boy had been seen in the depot at Funda. 
About midnight the Governor sent the boys to 
bed, while he himself piled fresh wood upon the 
fire. Toward morning he, too, went to his tent. 
Even if John Newell was lost, there was probably 
little danger. A party could certainly find him 
on the following day. 


The Man From Down the River 119 

From the pine-tree John Newell thought he 
caught a glimpse of a fire. Yes, there it was! 
Only a faint glimmer, it is true, and it flickered 
at times and seemed to die out. But it was close, 
far closer than he had hoped. 

Down to the ground he slipped, then cautious- 
ly, carefully, he crept toward the place. It was 
in full view now! Unable to restrain himself 
longer, he dashed through the bushes! There 
was a fire ! Not the camp, indeed, but a few logs 
were burning ! And, horror of horrors, near the 
unsteady blaze could be distinctly seen the form 
of a bear! 


CHAPTER XII 


When Wild Met Wild 

T hat afternoon, while George Rivers and 
young John Newell were on their way to 
inspect the treasure of stolen copper, Walter and 
Ferdinand were fishing down the stream about 
half a mile from the camp. They made a fire to 
roast some young trout which they had caught, 
and it was still burning sufficiently bright at 
nightfall to deceive the man and boy, who mis- 
took the blaze for the camp fire. 

A young cub had been attracted by the light 
and was enjoying a repast of fishbones and pieces 
of bread when young Newell appeared on the 
scene. It was almost full grown, and in the un- 
certain shadows appeared to the boy to be much 
larger than it really was. 

Of course, John Newell did not wait to inspect 
the bear closely. His first thought was to climb 
to a place of safety. From a fork in a small 
tree some ten feet from the ground he viewed the 


120 


When Wild Met Wild 


I2I 


black object below. To his surprise, the bear 
continued to snuffle around in search of bones, 
wholly unconscious of the presence of any one. 

Soon another object attracted the boy's atten- 
tion. Two eyes looked out from the thick brush. 
Then a wolf crept in sight; bending, poising — 
with one leap it was upon the cub. Its teeth sank 
deep into the back of the helpless creature, whose 
body rolled over on the ground. 

With its front paws upon the body of its vic- 
tim, it raised its head and gave a prolonged howl 
that sent the echoes ringing among the dark 
pines. 

Then it paused. It tore the flesh of the young 
bear and repeated its wild call. 

From out of the world of darkness came an 
answer. Louder and closer was heard a voice 
in reply. Through the forest dashed a wolf in 
response to the call, which it so well understood. 

In the meanwhile old mother bear had missed 
the little truant and had set off to find it. Just 
as the two wolves had begun to feast upon their 
prey, in upon them rushed the maddened mother. 

Snarling and gnashing their bloody teeth, the 


122 


When Wild Met Wild 


wolves leaped into the brush, only to dash out 
again at the enraged bear. 

Almost stupefied with terror, the boy watched 
the prolonged battle. The fire died out, and all 
around was in darkness. But the bright, flaring 
eyes of the wolves could be plainly seen. Some- 
times singly, sometimes the pair, rushed to the 
attack only to be beaten back. Once the bear 
seized a wolf, but it broke away and went whi- 
ning through the woods. 

Then there followed intervals of quiet; only 
the sniffle of the bear could be heard, as if moan- 
ing over the death of its young. 

Eyes like burning coals were again seen, but 
the bear was equal to the combined attack. 
Hours passed with intervals of battle and truce. 
Once John Newell heard the breaking of twigs 
just beneath him and feared that the bear was 
coming to climb the tree ; but it was only a wolf 
approaching to renew the combat. 

As it was too dark for the boy to see the hands 
of his watch, he had no idea of the time. Once 
or twice he dozed only to start with a shudder 
and grasp more tightly the branch overhead. 



“AI.MOST STUPEFIED WITH TERROR, THE BOY WATCHED THE 
PROLONGED BATTLE.”— PAGE 122. 





'' <4 


^ :5 j ' 


•f I ' ^ ’ V 


V- ,v:-' -:• _ 

br Ac '■‘*^' ' » tm\, * «■ , ^ ^ 





*^*. - ’ - * 




ft 


v'l'. 

- * • I 



-I' « 


.? .>; .*■ 

^ ^ Si*v . w * Jiii^ 

!*'"r . L-'^ ii^>VLf > ; <! *•'•■13 / ' ‘V - .Cj 


r 






' 



i^ TRSfe ;’- V'^'f '"'^ 

1^ y .S^v, 

N if* r r « ' 



. ' 


r*viir / ^ 

• A .‘i -. . ■ % 




When Wild Met Wild 


123 


Suddenly he was conscious of birds chirping 
among the branches, and the slightest traces of 
approaching day were visible. Light came fast, 
and soon he could plainly distinguish the form 
of the bear, still guarding the dead cub; but the 
wolves were gone. Then up the river he heard 
the voice of some one calling. It was Mr. Sher- 
wood. 

How welcome was that sound; but John New- 
ell was afraid to reply, for it seemed to him that 
the bear had thus far not been conscious of his 
presence. 

Down the river came the man, pausing at in- 
tervals to yell and await an answer. Suddenly 
the bear began to sniff the air. It was aware of 
the approach of an enemy. It growled angrily 
and started up the river. 

‘'Look out for the bear r shouted the boy from 
the tree. 

“Halloo!’* came back the reply. 

“Look out for the bear!” again yelled the 
lad. 

“Halloo!” was the response a second time. 

“Look out for the — !” Just then the bear 


124 


When Wild Met Wild 


came bursting back through the brush. “Help! 
help!” cried the boy. 

The animal came on furiously, reached the 
foot of the tree and reared up as if beginning 
to climb. 

John Newell began to mount higher. 

“So here you are,” cried Mr. Sherwood, 
reaching the clearing. “What’s this?” he stam- 
mered, as the angry beast started toward him. 

Luckily, there were some small trees within 
reach, and soon the man had lifted himself a 
few feet from the ground. 

The boy yelled, and the man roared back. The 
bear stood for a moment as if doubting where 
to make the attack; then it turned suddenly and 
rushed off into the woods. 

The two remained in the trees until they felt 
sure that the animal had gone. On reaching 
the ground John Newell fell fainting in the arms 
of Charles Sherwood. Some cool water from 
the river revived him, when, weak and pale, he 
picked his way back to the camp, leaning upon 
the arm of the Governor. 

The other boys ran from their tents to meet 


When Wild Met Wild 


125 


and welcome John. Sympathy for his suffer- 
ing seemed to bind all together and bring a unity 
and interest that had been wanting for a few 
days owing to his strange conduct. 

Now that all danger was passed, the boys al- 
most envied John’s strange adventure. Not one 
for a moment doubted the story of losing his 
way in the woods and wandering for hours be- 
fore dark. They listened with open mouths to 
the account of his experience. 

‘T was going to send a wireless to the Chi- 
cago papers,” put in Ferdinand as John was talk- 
ing. “ ‘Boy lost in the Michigan woods — reward 
for finding.’ What would be the reward?” he 
asked laughingly. 

“Three cents,” answered Walter. 

“Two cents,” said the “Kingfisher.” 

In the meanwhile John was enjoying a break- 
fast on a tender squirrel which Mr. Sherwood 
had killed late on the previous evening. 

“That’s a fact,” said Ferdinand, starting for 
the wireless, “I must let Mr. Baumer know that 
the lost boy has returned.” 


126 When Wild Met Wild 

‘^How did he know that I was lost?’' asked 
John. 

“I sent him word; had nothing else to send 
him last night.” 

‘‘I don’t want it to get in the papers,” pro- 
tested John. 

“Very well, we’ll just say you are back, and 
that’s all.” 

The conversation was interrupted by Farmer 
Riggs, who had come to give the party a trip to 
the copper mine and stamp-mill of Funda. He 
did not seem to be the least surprised when told 
of John’s experience. For, according to him, 
when wolves and bears have a fight at night they 
will not stop until daylight. 

“John is too weak to go this time,” replied the 
Governor to the farmer’s general invitation. 
“If you can carry four of the boys, John and I 
will keep house.” 

Charlie Zip was only too glad to get a day off. 
Preparations required but a few minutes; and 
soon the boys, with Mr. Riggs, were climbing 
the narrow path to the top of the hill, where the 
farmer’s team awaited them. 


CHAPTER XIII 
George Rivers Again 

W HEN the boys with Farmer Riggs 
reached Funda in the big wagon, they 
were met by a man whom they recognized at 
once as George Rivers. 

“You are not all here,'’ he said, looking over 
the crowd. 

“No," spoke out Ferdinand as he leaped to 
the ground. “One is sick and Mr. Sherwood 
stayed with him." 

“Sick," repeated the man, “too bad; very seri- 
ous?" 

“No, sir, he got lost and two wolves and a 
bear kept him up in a tree all night." And the 
boy gave an account of John Newell's adven- 
ture. 

“Where had he been?" asked the man, feign- 
ing ignorance in the matter. 

“Just went off into the woods for something, 
and lost his way." 


127 


128 


George Rivers Again 

“Too bad,” said the man pathetically. “Let 
me see,” he continued, “I must have met him at 
the camp. What is his name?” 

“John Newell,” replied Ferdinand. 

“That’s it, and his father is — is ” 

“A broker,” said the unsuspecting boy. 

“And quite well-to-do,” added George Rivers. 

“I don’t know much about his father’s busi- 
ness,” acknowledged young Eggert. 

“I remember quite well, for I had a talk with 
him at your camp. His father is well fixed.” 

In the meanwhile the other boys had gone on 
toward the mine. 

“Where did they get that big pile of rock?” 
asked Carroll Cage, pointing toward a heap of 
brownish stone. 

“Rock indeed,” replied Farmer Riggs. “I 
wish I had a thousand tons of that rock. It’s the 
purest copper in the wCrld.” 

It was difficult for the boys to understand 
that the lumps before them contained thousands 
of pounds of copper, for it appeared to be stone 
dumped as useless from some quarry. 

George Rivers picked up a piece of the rock 


George Rvuers Again 129 

and began to describe it. It contained lime and 
traces of silver and gold. Iron, lead, arsenic, 
and zinc were present in rather large quantities. 
He went on to explain about the differences be- 
tween the wet and dry processes, talked on grind- 
ing, calcination, and precipitation. But no one 
seemed interested except Ferdinand, who put a 
rather large piece in his pocket to analyze in the 
chemistry class at the academy. 

The learned talk of Mr. Rivers was cut short 
by the whistle which announced the arrival of 
a car from the mine. The boys were told to 
come into the wooden shed and get ready for 
the descent. 

When they had taken their places the whistle 
again blew and the car started on its downward 
trip. The express elevators in the tallest office 
building were slow in comparison to the speed 
of the mine car. Carroll Cage whispered a 
prayer to his guardian angel, for he felt that he 
needed some heavenly protection in this dark 
descent. 

Suddenly everything was flooded with electric 
light. A fairy-land it seemed, five hundred feet 


130 George Rivers Again 

below the surface of the earth, an electric fairy- 
land. Electricity not only lighted the place, but 
electric drills cut deep into the ore, and small 
electric cars brought the ore to the elevator; 
electric radiators were used to drive out the cool 
and dampness, and electric stoves cooked or 
warmed the meals for the employees. 

As the boys wandered through the enchanted 
world, George Rivers kept close to the side of 
Ferdinand. 

'‘I can’t help thinking of that boy who is sick,” 
said he. 

“I am sure he is well by this time,” replied 
the lad. 

“Such a shock often leaves its effects for 
months,” explained the man. “Are you certain 
that he had fully recovered?” 

“Oh, yes, sir.” 

“And he was out all night.” 

“Yes, sir. Mr. Sherwood found him in the 
tree early this morning.” 

“Bears and wolves are as gentle as deer this 
time of the year,” said the man, “You say a 
wolf killed a young cub?” 


George Rivers Again 13 1 

“That’s the way I understood it/’ 

“It’s probably correct and that accounts for 
the fight. It was a fight over one of their young. 
A bear will pass you by in the woods these days 
and just look at you like a cow or a horse will 
do, but if its young is near and especially if it is 
wounded or in danger, then look out for a fight. 
Wolves, too, are shy and timid during summer, 
but if one approaches too near their young they 
will show fight. But coming back to the boy, 
I can recall him quite well. In fact, I believe I 
remember the name of the street on which he 
lives. It’s something like Willow Street. Is 
there a Willow Street in Chicago?” 

Now, George Rivers had an object in view 
in talking about John Newell, for he wished to 
find out whether the boy had spoken the truth to 
him, and whether he had given the correct street 
and address. He was convinced now that John’s 
father was a broker and that socially he was well 
connected. It only remained to verify the street 
and the exact number of the house. If John 
Newell had given these correctly, the man had all 
the information necessary to press his claims, in 


132 George Rivers Again 

case the boy did not make prompt payment for 
the copper. 

'‘Say, Walter,” asked Ferdinand, calling to the 
boy, who was a few feet away, “does John New- 
ell live on Willow Street?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’s the number?” 

“Why, what do you want with the number?” 

“Nothing in particular; I was talking to this 
man about him.” 

“Let me see,” said Walter, “three — three, yes, 
three hundred and fifty — yes, fifty-two, for it’s 
the first house on the right side of the street — 
352 — that’s the number.” 

“Do you think he is very sick?” asked the man. 

“No, sir.” 

“I met him at the camp the other day and 
rather liked him,” said George Rivers. 

“I don’t think he’s very sick,” said Walter, 
“just tired and sleepy after being in the tree all 
night.” 

“So your friend was telling me,” replied 
Rivers, pointing toward Ferdinand, who had 
walked on to join the crowd. “It sounds almost 


133 


George Rivers Again 

like a story — a boy in a pine-tree, watching a 
bear and two wolves fight around a camp-fire — 
a story, yes, a real, real story,” repeated he. 

“It wasn’t much of a story,” insisted the boy. 

“I wouldn’t want to be in a story like that. I 
don’t mind canoes turning over, or falling into 
rivers and getting wet, and all such things; but 
I don’t want any bear and wolf fights in mine.” 

“But it makes a good story when it is over,” 
replied the man. 

Then he asked more questions about John 
Newell. In fact, he managed to talk to each of 
the party about his young accomplice, until he 
was convinced that the boy’s father was a 
wealthy broker. Moreover, he was sure of the 
address. He now began to talk about indiffer- 
ent topics and to show the boys the mine. 

The visitors were led into a dark, damp sec- 
tion; then out where the hydraulic drills were 
cutting into the ore; then out again where the 
walls of this wondrous world were gleaming like 
myriads of precious gems. It was so strange 
and bewitching, that the hour’s visit seemed but 
a few minutes. 


134 George Rivers Again 

Then the whistle blew for the ascent and all 
ran to take their places. Up through the dark 
hole the car sped, soon bringing the boys into 
the bright sunlight. 

Farmer Riggs was waiting for them. Into 
the big wagon they bounded, and began to en- 
joy the lunch which they had brought. 

Much to their joy they found on reaching the 
camp that John Newell had entirely recovered 
from the shock, and was fishing with Mr. Sher- 
wood. 


CHAPTER XIV 


When the Wireless was Needed 

‘‘TTALLO, going traveling?’' 

JL X “Come, take a walk down the road,” re- 
plied John Newell to this question of Walter 
Stanley. 

The latter agreed, although he did not under- 
stand why John was so serious, and why he wore 
his coat this early in the morning. 

“Are you still frightened by the wolves and 
bears?” asked Walter, for it was the second day 
after John’s adventure. 

“It’s no fun to get lost and have them fighting 
under you all night,” answered John. 

The boys exchanged but few words as they 
walked up the narrow path to the top of the 
hill. 

“Walter,” said John after a short pause, “I’m 
thinking of going back to Chicago.” 

“Why? What has happened ?” 

135 


136 When the Wireless Was Needed 

“Oh, not much, but I am tired of the camp, 
and I don’t like one of the fellows.” 

“Who?” Walter wanted to know, as the two 
resumed their walk. 

“I don’t like to say; but it’s Charlie Zip.” 

“Uncle Charles said last night that the cook 
was a fine boy,” put in Walter. 

“He may be, but he’s not my kind.” 

“He is only a cook ; and you don’t have to go 
with him,” 

“Yes, but he’s making himself one of the 
party.” 

“Uncle Charles told him to.” 

“Very well, then I’ll go.” 

All the while the boys were getting further 
from the camp. 

“Good-bye, Walter, and thank you for bring- 
ing me all the same.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I am going to walk to Funda and take the 
train. I can reach Funda before three, and catch 
the Chicago train at Keeseville at eight.” 

“Gee!” exclaimed Walter, digging his toes in- 
to the ground. 


When the Wireless Was Needed 137 

“I brought you this far to explain things/’ said 
John Newell. ‘‘I am in no hurry to get my va- 
lise, just pack up the few things I have and send 
them along with the camp outfit when you break 
up. Good-bye,” and John Newell reached out 
his right hand. 

‘'What will Uncle Charles and the boys say?” 
asked Walter. 

“Just tell them that I tired of camping,” an- 
swered John, and started down the narrow road 
toward Funda. 

Walter Stanley stood watching his compan- 
ion until the trees hid him from view, then he 
turned and ran to the camp. “John Newell has 
gone home,” he shouted to Uncle Charles, as he 
neared the place. 

“I think it is the best thing that could have 
happened,” said Mr. Sherwood when the boys 
were quiet. “John Newell may be a good boy, 
but for some reason he wasn’t entering into the 
spirit of the vacation. Probably he is homesick. 
At any rate, I for one am glad that he has 
gone.” 

That afternoon the Governor called Ferdinand 


138 When the Wireless Was Needed 

Eggert aside. ‘Tor some time I have suspected 
young Newell of stealing,” he explained, “and 
now mv suspicion is only increased. If he stole 
the money from Walter and Carroll, as I believe 
he did, then he may have stolen the money and 
watch from that lady on the train. At any rate 
I believe that we are justified in taking action. 
Say nothing to the other boys, but send this mes- 
sage to the operator at Keeseville.” 

Ferdinand took the note, which read as fol- 
lows: “Tell the police to search boy on Funda 
train, bound for Chicago. Fourteen years old — 
sharp-featured — long, pointed nose. See whether 
he has a gold watch with initials : C. P. Do not 
arrest.” 

“You see,” explained Mr. Sherwood, “if he 
reaches the city with the watch, he can sell it. 
If we have proof that he had the watch on his 
person I can give the information to the railroad 
company to sue and recover damages.” 

The message was received by the Keeseville 
operator; but the authorities took no action and 
allowed the boy to board the train for Chicago. 
Then the mayor of the town, feeling that he had 


When the Wireless Was Needed 139 

made a mistake, sent a dispatch to police head- 
quarters in Chicago. 

The next morning as John Newell, Sr,, en- 
tered his office in the Board of Trade Building 
he was handed a dispatch which read as follows : 

“On board Northwestern for Chicago. Made 
a deal in copper which will bring five hundred or 
more. Ask me no questions when I meet you. 
Due in Chicago at noon. 

John Newell, Jr.'’ 

“There’s the boy for you!” cried the father, 
handing the dispatch to his assistant, “I always 
said he’d take after the old man. Only fourteen, 
and turned a copper deal. Wants it kept secret, 
too; shrewd of him to put it that way.” And 
the father walked the floor repeating: “That’s 
the lad for you ! That’s the lad for you ! Giving 
up his vacation, too! Takes right after me! I 
am proud of the lad.” 

Two hours later the train bearing young New- 
ell to Chicago stopped at a small station some 
twenty-five miles from the city. Among the few 


140 When the Wireless Was Needed 

passengers who boarded it was a detective in 
citizen^s clothes from the Chicago police force, 
who had been sent by officials in response to the 
dispatch from the mayor of Keeseville. 

The officer walked through the three coaches 
unnoticed, and yet his trained eye caught sight 
of the boy for whom he was looking. Return- 
ing to the seat occupied by John Newell he sat 
by the boy’s side. 

‘*Have you the time?” he asked. 

Pulling from his pocket a gold watch the boy 
looked at it and replied: “A quarter to eleven.” 

“A fine ticker you have,” said the man reach- 
ing over and taking the watch. “I see it has your 
initials — C. P.” 

'‘No, sir, my name is Newell — John Newell.” 

“I see,” added the stranger as if indifferent. 
He pulled from his pocket a morning paper and 
began to read. 

“Have you the ball scores?” John wanted to 
know. 

“Oh, yes, take the sheet. I’m through with it.” 

Each read in silence for a few minutes. 

“Several arrests in the city yesterday for 


When the Wireless Was Needed 141 

minor thefts,” remarked the stranger, handing 
the boy a page with an account of the work of 
the police. 

‘‘Oh, the police are no good!” sneered John. 
“I know all about ’em. They’d never get me.” 

“Don’t be too sure of it, my young friend. A 
fellow may beat ’em at times, but they are sure 
to get him. Yes-yes,” he drawled out, “sure-to- 
get-’im. Here’s a fellow who stole some jewelry 
and they got him before the next night,” and the 
detective held the paper in front of the boy. 
John colored a little as he read the account. “Oh 
-yes, we-get— ’em; for I may as well tell you 
that I am on the force,” and the stranger unbut- 
toned his coat and showed his star. 

John Newell left his seat to get a drink of 
water. The detective followed him to the cooler. 

As the boy opened up a paper drinking cup, 
and held it under the cooler, the officer noticed 
that he trembled. 

“What makes you so nervous?” asked the 
man. 

“None of your business !” but John spilled half 
the water as he attempted to drink. 


142 When the Wireless Was Needed 

The man followed him back to his seat, but 
the culprit rose at once to ^o to another part of 
the coach. 

''Keep your seat,” said the officer. "You are 
under arrest for stealing that gold watch,” and 
he showed the dispatch from Keeseville. 

"That wireless did it,” whimpered the boy. 

"So you own up?” 

John Newell did not reply. 

"You just remarked that the police would 
never get you. Don’t make an attempt to get 
away, or I’ll put the handcuffs on. Now answer 
these questions: 

"How much money did you steal?” 

"Fifteen dollars from the woman, but I didn’t 
steal it. I found the bag on the floor, then next 
morning I was afraid to tell.” 

"Did you steal anything else?” 

"I took about twelve dollars from one of the 
boys for traveling; but I intended to return it.” 

"What is your father’s name?” 

"John Newell.” 

"His business?” 

"Broker.” 


When the Wireless Was Needed 143 

“Where?” 

“39 South La Salle Street.” 

Big tears were now gathering in the boy's 
eyes. 

“Your home address?” continued the man 
sternly. 

“352 West Willow Street.” 

The boy was questioned about the camping 
and was made to give the names of his compan- 
ions with such facts as convinced the officer that 
he was telling the truth. 

“The dispatch asks the law not to hold you. 
Perhaps the gentleman at the camp has said 
something in your favor. If you do not attempt 
to escape I promise to release you after consult- 
ing with your father and getting him to go on 
your bail.” 

John Newell quite broke down when he heard 
that he had to face his father. But the officer 
was inexorable on this point. 

The train was now drawing into the North- 
western station; and in less than half an hour 
John Newell opened the door of his father's of- 
fice. 


144 When the Wireless Was Needed 

*‘Ha, the young broker! I am proud of you, 
John,” were the words of greeting. “But you 
are crying, boy! What has happened?” 

“Let me explain,” said the officer stepping for- 
ward. 

When he had finished the statement, the father 
broke out defiantly: “The boy has never stolen! 
He wouldn’t steal ! His account is quite natural ! 
He found the bag and being a timid and bashful 
boy, did not know what to do ! He says that he 
intended to return the twelve dollars to his com- 
panion!” And Mr. Newell paced the office in 
a fury. 

“Will you come over to the court and give 
bail?” asked the officer coolly. 

“This is a disgrace on my family and could 
have been avoided!” continued the man, ignor- 
ing the officer’s question. “I’ll settle with Charles 
Sherwood! I’ll settle with him! I never wanted 
my boy to join the party, and this is what comes 
of it! Family disgraced! disgraced! dis- 
graced ! ! !” 

The officer stood motionless and imperturba- 
ble. 


When the Wireless Was Needed 145 

This irritated the man all the more. 

‘Tt’s all right for you cold-hearted individuals 
to execute what you think is the law ! You never 
stop to consider the disgrace of a family— dis- 
grace! disgrace!!!” 

But John, Newell, Sr., finally cooled down. 
He went with the officer and gave bail. Send- 
ing his son home, he returned to his office. 


CHAPTER XV 

Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 

C ARROLL CAGE was in an awful plight. 

His face was scratched ; his right hand was 
bleeding; his shirt and cap were torn. The bait 
can was gone, the line and hooks were gone, and 
even Mr. Sherwood’s silvered reel was gone! 
It happened this way: 

Carroll decided that he wished to go a-fishing 
all alone. If he went in company he was sure to 
talk so much and so loud that the trout would be 
frightened away. Besides, he wanted to prove 
that he had mastered the art of casting for trout 
and of landing them along a wooded bank. Mr. 
Sherwood permitted him to use his fine, new 
reel, and assisted him in digging worms and pre- 
paring a lunch. 

Down the river bank the boy strolled with 
many a promise that he would bring to the camp 
a plentiful repast. 


146 


147 


Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 

A quiet pool was soon reached. 

Imitating Mr. Sherwood he crept cautiously 
toward the bank and cast his line with becoming 
skill. He did not have to wait long, for the trout 
seemed unusually hungry. A quick jerk and he 
could feel a prize struggling to escape. 

But he forgot the branches above him. Scon 
high overhead a fish was dangling from a limb 
of a tree. The more he pulled and worked to re- 
lease the line, the more it seemed to get tangled 
in the impending branch. 

Nothing daunted he climbed the small tree, 
and with his knife cut off the branch, for the 
main limb was so small that it would not bear 
his weight. The knife was dull, and the half- 
dead pine was hard and tough. Cut! cut! cut! 
But all the time his hand grew red and blistered. 
He persevered, however, until the hook and line 
were lying on the ground beneath him. 

What a twisted-twisted line he found on 
reaching the bank ! How could it ever have been 
wound and rewound about the pine limb? In- 
stead of disentangling the line Carroll was mak- 
ing things more and more complicated. Each 


148 Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 

time he pulled the hook or the lead through the 
knotty mass he only tangled — tangled — tangled 
the line the more. 

Carroll was too interested to observe that a 
visitor had approached. This visitor walked out 
from the bushes, eyed the boy for a while, and 
then came closer. Then the visitor stood watch- 
ing the lad — watching him very intently. Still 
the visitor was so quiet, the tread of the visitor 
was so soft, that Carroll worked and tangled, 
and tangled and worked, while the visitor crept 
closer and closer. 

Carroll Cage felt the warm breath of some- 
thing standing close behind him. Turning in his 
fright he was amazed to see a young deer with 
its tongue reaching out to lick his hat. The ani- 
mal was in no way frightened, but with its large, 
innocent eyes looked deep into the face of the 
boy. They seemed equally innocent — the lad 
and the deer ! The boy was too dazed to move ; 
the visitor seemed unconscious of any danger. 

Then suddenly without any warning the little 
creature turned and leaped toward the brush. It 
seemed to realize, in an instant, that it was in 


Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 149 

danger, that it had ventured too far away from 
its kind. 

The front foot of the deer was caught in the 
line. Away it started, pulling with it the en- 
tangled branch and line and reel. Carroll leaped 
to his feet only to frighten the deer the more. 
This little creature, which appeared so weak and 
innocent, suddenly developed strength and speed. 

Carroll succeeded in getting hold of the reel 
only to find himself dragged away from the 
river. Feeling that he had not sufficient strength 
to hold the deer, he relaxed his grasp, and saw 
to his dismay the animal disappear in the woods 
dragging with it the line and precious reel. 

Standing alone in the woods he realized that 
he had run or rather had been pulled a consid- 
erable distance from the river. His hand was 
bruised and bleeding, his face was scratched, and 
his cap was gone. It was found later among 
some tall bushes. 

Seated on a rock near the bank of the river 
Carroll Cage tried in vain to summon up cour- 
age to return to the camp and to face Mr. Sher- 
wood. Back into the woods he went. How dark 


150 Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 

and somber it seemed! He was startled at the 
note of a bird or the breaking of twigs beneath 
his feet. He feared to venture further; besides, 
there did not appear the slightest chance of fol- 
lowing up the trail. The line was too badly 
entangled by this time to be of any further use 
and the reel was probably broken. 

Returning to the river a second time he again 
sat and looked out over the water. Big tears 
gathered in his eyes. 

Up the bank he saw a man picking his way 
slowly, and soon recognized him as the one who 
had visited the camp, and who had met the party 
in the copper mine. 

“What’ re you crying about, boy?” asked the 
stranger. 

“Lost my fishing-line.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing! Once when I was fish- 
ing, a whale swam up to the shore and swallowed 
my line and pole.” 

“My pole is gone, too.” 

“Who took it?” 

“A deer.” 

“Look here, boy, how could a deer be down 


Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 15 1 

in that water and bite at your hook? Tve heard 
of wild ducks being caught on a line, but this is 
the first time that I ever heard of a fellow catch- 
ing a deer,” laughed the visitor as he sat down 
by the side of the disconsolate youth. 

‘‘The deer wasn’t in the water.” 

“Where was it?” 

“Right where you are sitting.” 

“Oh, I see!” said the man, “it was a young 
deer.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And it walked right up to you?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“I believe you. A young deer is the biggest 
fool in the country. During the summer it will 
walk right up to a farmer’s house and stand 
looking at the children. It will step into a gar- 
den and eat all your vegetables. You never 
know when it is going to get frightened. It 
seems to conclude all at once that it has made a 
mistake and is in the wrong place. It kicks up 
its hind legs, and away it goes. So it just kicked 
up its hind legs, and got caught in your fishing 
line, and the rest is easily told. Am I right?” 


152 Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 

‘‘Yes — s-s-sir,” stammered the boy. 

“I can tell you something else that happened,” 
continued the man. “When you looked at that 
innocent little critter you thought it could not 
run.” 

“Yes, sir,” and the boy’s eyes opened wide. 

“But it could run like the very mischief.” 

“Yes, sir, it ran and dragged me along with 
it.” 

“Just what I was going to say,” put in the 
man. “You thought that a young deer was as 
weak as a kitten. But it seemed as strong as 
an ox.” 

“It was strong enough to pull me.” 

“You can’t fish and hunt without accidents,” 
explained the man. “I have been killed by bears 
several times. Whales and large catfish have 
pulled me miles into the lake. Once an angry 
deer tossed me over the top of the highest tree 
in the woods, and broke every bone in my 
body.” 

“You aren’t dead now,” replied Carroll with 
bewildered look. 

“Not exactly; but I wanted you to understand 


Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 153 

that unlucky things will happen out in the 
woods/' 

‘‘And you were fibbing to me,” protested the 
lad, whose delicate conscience would not let such 
evident falsehoods pass unchallenged. 

“To be truthful with you,” acknowledged the 
man, “I am glad I met you, for I want to ask 
you about one of your party. The boy who lost 
his way in the woods and spent the night in the 
tree. Let me see, what is is his name?” 

“John Newell,” was the reply. 

“That is it. How is he?” 

“Why, he has gone.” 

“Where?” 

“Back to Chicago, we think.” 

“I understood that his father was rich,” and 
George Rivers watched the lad intently. 

“He is a broker and is worth lots of money,” 
said the boy. 

“And he left the camp and went back to Chi- 
cago?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Did he ever tell you what happened when he 
was lost?” 


154 Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 

“No, sir, except that he had to spend the night 
in the woods/' 

The conversation ran on until George Rivers 
was convinced that his youthful associate, John 
Newell, had not revealed anything about the 
visit to the place where the stolen copper was 
hid, or of the agreement about selling the copper 
in Chicago. Then the man turned the subject to 
more wonderful adventures — the number of 
times he had been killed by Indians and devoured 
by bears — all so wonderful and strange that Car- 
roll quite forgot his own mishaps of a few min- 
utes previous. 

The interesting talk was interrupted by the 
approach of Mr. Sherwood, who laughed heartily 
when he learned of Carroll’s adventure. 

“Don’t mind the reel,” said he, “I have fished 
all I intended to this season, and next year I may 
want a new kind. The line served many trips, 
and wasn’t worth carrying back to Chicago. 
That scratch on your face will heal ih two days 
and your hand will be well in the morning. You 
have found your cap, and we can mend your 
pants to-night. That settles the matter. Every 


Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 155 

vacation is supposed to have its accidents and 
this is yours/' 

‘‘Of course, of course!" put in George Rivers. 
‘‘I was just telling the boy how many times I 
have been killed by Indians and devoured by 
bears." 

‘‘But he hasn't," said innocent Carroll, “for he 
is still alive." 

The lad had dreaded to meet Mr. Sherwood; 
but the latter was so indifferent about the loss 
of the reel, and spoke so kindly that tears were 
dried and anxiety vanished. In fact, Mr. Sher- 
wood agreed to keep the matter a secret, as he 
saw how keenly Carroll would feel the taunts of 
the other boys. Luckily no one suspected any 
mishap. They took no notice of the scratched 
face and bruised hand, for such trifles were parts 
of the day’s program. 

It was only when class had resumed and Car- 
roll read a composition on trapping a deer, that 
the story of his adventure was gradually known. 

George Rivers had now met the boys of the 
camp at the Copper Mine and had talked long 
with Carroll about John Newell. The man was 


156 Carroll Cage Goes A-Fishing 

convinced that John had slipped away to Chi- 
cago to avoid any possibility of being suspected 
and to begin to negotiate at once for the sale 
of the copper. After a short conversation on 
indifferent topics he sauntered down the stream, 
leaving Mr. Sherwood and Carroll free to return 
to the camp. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Fun and a Visit 


FTER the departure of John Newell an 



1 jL unusual spirit of fun and adventure had 
seized the crowd. They decorated the tents and 
the tables with the most beautiful and delicate 
ferns; they gathered cans full of thimble ber- 
ries; they fished, bathed, and canoed during the 
day; they sang, and yelled, and played tricks on 
each other at night as they gathered around the 
great camp fire. There was no more trouble or 
friction. Charlie Zip occasionally forgot his 
good resolution about the use of profane lan- 
guage, but he always apologized and started 
anew. The other boys helped him in his work 
around the stove so that he could share in the 
sports. 

‘T see that I am in the right place,” said a man 
as he walked into the camp one noon. ‘T had 
only to follow the wires from the top of the hill.” 


158 Fun and a Visit 

It was the operator from Keeseville, Mr. Clair 
Baumer. 

It seemed like a visit from an old friend, as 
he had been in communication with the party 
daily. 

“Welcome to our camp,” said the Governor, 
as he introduced the visitor to each of the boys. 

“I want to congratulate you,” said the opera- 
tor, as he shook hands with Ferdinand. “You 
are expert in dispatching. Who swung the wires 
from those pines?” 

“Spider did it,” and Carroll Cage smiled. 

“No, Legs did it,” claimed Walter Stanley. 

“We all did it,” put in Ferdinand. 

“No, we must give our young friend the honor 
that is due him,” said Mr. Sherwood. “It’s the 
work of our scientist and wireless operator, Fer- 
dinand Eggert.” 

“As clever a piece of work as ever I saw,” re- 
plied Mr. Baumer. 

“We have all kinds of talent in this party,” 
explained Mr. Sherwood. “Come orver, I will 
introduce you to the cook.” 

After dinner the visitor pronounced Charlie 


Fun and a Visit 


159 

Zip as good a cook as Ferdinand was an opera- 
tor. 

During the meal reference had been made to 
the bear killed by Mr. Sherwood, and all went 
to the barrel where, according to the instruc- 
tion of Mr. Baumer, the hide had been put in 
salt water. 

As the visitor proceeded to measure the skin, 
which was stretched upon the ground, he ex- 
pressed some surprise at the size. He measured 
it a second time and a third; then he consulted 
a small note-book. 

‘‘Gentlemen,” said he, “this is the biggest bear 
killed in Michigan as far as records have been 
kept. I have been an agent for the Field Mu- 
seum since the time of the Chicago World’s Fair. 
The institution has made an effort to collect 
specimens of all North American animals, as 
they are fast becoming extinct. Of course this 
is not the season of the year for the fur; still I 
am sure that the museum authorities will pay all 
the expenses of shipping, and if the skin is good 
and can be mounted, you should get at least fifty 
dollars for this specimen.” 


i6o Fun and a Visit 

“Great hunter!’' cried out Mr. Sherwood as 
he expanded his chest. 

“Where is that little dog?” Ferdinand wanted 
to know. “If it had stayed at home the bear 
would have been frightened, and I would have 
gotten the fifty dollars.” 

But Dover had been thrown into the river so 
often of late that he remained at some distance 
from the crowd. 

Mr. Baumer had come to fish; but before be- 
ginning the sport he wanted to know whether 
there was a kingfisher’s nest in the neighbor- 
hood. 

“I am called the ‘Kingfisher’,” broke in smil- 
ing Carroll, “and my nest’s right inside that 
tent.” 

“Yes, yes,” explained the Governor, “at one 
time he didn’t talk enough, and now he chatters 
away all day, just like a kingfisher.” 

“Well, perhaps he has attracted other king- 
fishers. The Field Museum has a number of 
specimens, but the managers want a photo, show- 
ing how the birds burrow into the banks for their 
nest.” 


Fun and a Visit 


i6i 


^‘Carroll and myself can probably help you,” 
added the Governor, “for we saw two birds when 
we were fishing.” 

The Governor offered to stay at the camp, 
while all four boys went with the operator to 
look for the nest. Carroll, who was quite sure 
that he could lead them to the exact spot, proved 
to be an experienced guide. 

“Let me first take a photo of the bank,” said 
Mr. Baumer, “and then we’ll get a shot at the 
door of Mr. and Mrs. Bird’s house.” 

“There is Mr. Bird now,” cried Carroll, for 
a kingfisher had lit on a dead branch overhead. 
“Ain’t it wrong to steal a bird’s nest?” he asked 
of the man. 

“Not if you need it for a museum or other 
purposes.” 

“Mr. Kingfisher is objecting to our coming 
here,” joined in Walter. 

“He can soon build another house,” said the 
visitor. 

“Now, boys, dig away,” he continued, for they 
had brought a pick and a shovel. 

After removing only a few inches of the nar- 


Fun and a Visit 


162 

row entrance a second photo was taken, and this 
continued until the party had dug three feet into 
the bank. The little home was empty. How- 
ever, the operator got what he wished, namely, 
the nest and the views of the entrance. He felt 
sure that the taxidermist at the museum would 
be able to make an exact reproduction of the 
bank. Visitors at the museum would be able to 
see just how a kingfisher approached its nest and 
constructed it. 

That afternoon the two men enjoyed a suc- 
cessful short fishing trip down the river. When 
alone with Mr. Sherwood, the operator told him 
of the success of the Chicago detective in ar- 
resting young Newell. The boy was out on bail 
furnished by his father, and would be tried as 
soon as Mr. Sherwood returned to the city. 

'T suspected him of having that watch, and 
didn’t wish to give him a chance to sell it,” re- 
plied the Governor after they had talked the 
matter over. 

“You did right. Are you going to have him 
prosecuted ?” 

“I think I’ll ask to have the case dismissed, 


Fun and a Visit 163 

provided we recover the money and the watch.” 

“There is no doubt about your watch or its 
full value.” 

“Such things are disagreeable,” acknowledged 
the Governor. “It will teach me to be more care- 
ful in future in selecting a party. I had to let 
the larger boy know what I did, for he sent the 
message; but I have told the others nothing, and 
they seem to have quite forgotten young New- 
ell.” 

Later, as the two men picked their way along 
the river toward the camp, Mr. Clair Baumer 
remarked : 

“I am certainly enjoying the visit with you 
and the boys, sir; and with your permission I 
would like to invite myself to lengthen my stay 
for a week.” 

“Two weeks and more,” came the quick reply 
of Charles Sherwood. “No, we will not be here 
two weeks, but I assure you that you will be 
welcome as long as we are here.” 

“Kind of you,” said the wireless man, “I will 
insist on paying my board and will try and make 
myself useful.” 


Fun and a Visit 


164 

‘^You are welcome to our simple fare. I think 
we have enough for the table.” 

‘Tet me ask another favor,” said the stranger, 
as the two seated themselves on an old log near 
the river bank not far from the camp. “You 
know there are a number of wolves and even a 
few bears in the woods around. I would like 
to hunt them for a week in the winter.” 

“How I would ^njoy it,” interrupted Mr. 
Sherwood, with an emphasis that left no doubt 
about his desire to join in the sport. 

“Then let us hunt for a week,” suggested Mr. 
Baumer. 

“Can’t get away from my business; besides, 
one vacation is all I can afford. But let me hear 
your plans.” 

“I will explain them with an apology. I want 
to construct a winter hut where your camp is.” 

“Certainly, certainly, we’ll all join in and lend 
a hand.” 

“I am afraid that the work will be too much 
for us ; I thought of getting two lumbermen who 
could cut down the trees and notch the logs. We 


Fun and a Visit 165 

can help a little and supervise; but I am afraid 
the work would be too hard for us.” 

“Capital idea,’* exclaimed Mr. Sherwood, who 
seemed bent on granting every request of the 
visitor. 

“I got permission of the owner a year ago,” 
explained the wireless man, “but I did not do 
anything; now is the time. I will see that the 
men in no way interfere with you or the boys. 
These men are accustomed to sleep out in the 
woods and will cook their own meals.” 

“We will make them feel at home,” came the 
answer, “they will be members of tfie party,” 
insisted the Governor, with something of his old 
firmness. 

“This affair is progressing rather rapidly,” 
laughed the visitor. “I mentioned it with some 
hesitation. But since you approve of it I will 
go on with the matter. In the first place it will 
be necessary to send a message to Keeseville to 
find out whether the man who took my place can 
stay for a week. Then whether we can get two 
lumberjacks. I will have to explain just what 


1 66 Fun and a Visit 

men I want. There are several in the town who 
will do the work.’' 

After further conversation and perfecting of 
plans, Mr. Baumer went to young Eggert’s wire- 
less station. In the meanwhile Mr. Sherwood 
told the boys of the prospective house building 
and the possibility of lengthening their trip for 
a few days. 

In a few minutes Mr. Baumer joined the 
party and informed them all that he could get 
a week’s absence from the station at Keeseville. 
In less than an hour a second message announced 
that the two men had been secured and that they 
would take the afternoon train. 


CHAPTER XVII 
The Pirates 

W HEN Mr. Clair Baumer told the boys 
that the two lumbermen had not only 
been secured, but were on their way, there was 
general rejoicing in the camp. Charlie Zip prom- 
ised to have a warm supper ready for them on 
their arrival; Walter and Carroll offered their 
cots for the night. 

But the operator explained that they would 
bring their tent, and cook their own meals. Of 
course he would insist on the two men taking 
supper that night, as it would be too late for 
them to prepare anything for themselves; after 
that, the men would prefer to live apart, as they 
were Norwegians and did not speak English. 

A great camp-fire was kept burning near the 
river, where all gathered to welcome the stran- 
gers. 

Suddenly Dover barked. “He sees them,’" said 
167 


The Pirates 


1 68 

Mr. Baumer, who was in the crowd. He was 
not mistaken, for in a few seconds the two men 
emerged from the thick foliage that overshad- 
owed the path. What heavy loads they carried ! 
Tenting and pots and pans and axes and saws 
and ropes, and everything for camping and build- 
ing a house. The men were almost concealed by 
the great bundles upon their backs. 

Soon they were relieved of their burdens and 
stood smiling before the camp-fire. 

“They look like pirates,’’ whispered Carroll 
Cage, recalling a picture of two men with long 
beards in some book of adventure. 

“We’ll call them the two pirates,” joined in 
Walter Stanley. 

“But they aren’t dangerous looking,” added 
Carroll, who observed the smile of content on 
the face of each. 

They were low statured men, powerful and 
thick shouldered. They seemed just suited for 
the heavy work of handling logs. As it was dis- 
covered the following morning that one’s beard 
was slightly red, they were called “Red Pirate” 
and “Black Pirate.” Good natured Pirates they 


The Pirates 


169 

were, and they smiled all the more when Mr. 
Baumer succeeded in explaining to them the 
nicknames given them by the boys. 

After enjoying the supper which Charlie Zip 
had prepared, the two men sauntered along the 
river looking for a place for their tent. They 
were soon satisfied with the location, and in a 
short time were prepared to rest. 

That night all retired with the feeling that a 
pleasant surprise awaited them in the morning. 
Walter and Carroll had agreed to be up early 
and join in the work. They slept until late, how- 
ever, and were awakened by a loud crash. Leap- 
ing from their cots they saw a great pine tree 
which the two lumbermen had cut. 

Soon the work began in earnest. The plans 
as roughly sketched by Mr. Baumer called for 
a hut eighteen feet long by fourteen wide, one 
window, a double door, and a fireplace with a 
chimney on the outside. This latter was to be 
built of flat stones from the river bed, with the 
crevices filled with mud of a clayish soil dug near 
by, the same being used between the chinks in 
the sides of the hut. 


170 


The Pirates 


Late in the morning Farmer Riggs arrived 
with his team and assisted in hauling the logs 
from the woods to the place selected for the 
house. As Mr. Baumer insisted on using trees 
that were straight, it was necessary to go some 
little distance into the woods to secure the suit- 
able timber. Besides, he wished his house to 
stand in the midst of trees, and for that reason 
did not wish to cut down those in the immediate 
vicinity. 

It required but a short time to fell a tree eight 
inches thick, to notch it at the ends, and lift the 
log into its place. By noon the walls were eight 
feet high. Mr. Baumer explained that the work 
would be slower when they began to cut the shin- 
gles and put on the roof. 

While resting after dinner the Red Pirate no- 
ticed through a rift in the pines that a threaten- 
ing cloud was gathering in the west. The sul- 
try weather, too, indicated rain. 

“Say, the Pirates are getting ready to attack 
us,'' remarked Walter to Carroll, as he observed 
the two men arise from the ground and point 
toward the camp. 


The Pirates 


171 

“No, they are looking at the clouds,’' explained 
the latter. 

“See them coming this way,” affirmed Car- 
roll. 

“Let us get the guns,” was the answer. 

“That big red-headed fellow could swallow 
you alive,” said young Stanley. 

“And the other one could boil you in a big 
pot,” replied Carroll Cage, who had read of 
some cannibals feasting upon a captive. 

The men began to gesticulate all the more, and 
to appear really excited. They pointed to the 
clouds, the trees, the tents. Evidently they 
feared some danger. 

Without a word of explanation they ran to 
lower the tents. By broken expressions they 
succeeded in warning Mr. Baumer and through 
him the rest of the party of the danger. All 
were ordered to run within the uncovered enclos- 
ure of the new hut. 

Overhead there was a stir among the tops of 
the pines. Then the trees moaned and the inter- 
locking branches swished and chafed. Two 
enormous trunks rasped against each other 


172 


The Pirates 


with a distressing sound, long and often re- 
peated. 

The whole forest was enveloped in a sudden 
and unnatural darkness, causing the fire under 
a boiling kettle to glow in the mid-day gloom. 

Now a hurricane swept on the river. How the 
trees bent and groaned, and groaned and bent 
again. It was nature measured against her own 
strength. The strength of a day was gathered 
against the strength of a century’s growth. The 
onward rush, the terrifying rush, the seemingly 
irresistible rush of the great monster wind was 
matched against the pines, with their roots deep 
set, their trunks firm, and their fiber hardened 
to withstand the terrible shock of the summer’s 
storm. 

And now to the fury of the wind was added 
the rain, which fell in a blinding downpour. The 
little fire was quenched, and all was dark as 
night, except when the great streams of light- 
ning flashed overhead. 

Terrified and drenched the boys huddled to- 
gether in the uncovered hut, blinking with each 
flash of light, gasping as they listened to the 


The Pirates 


173 


dashing of limbs overhead and the crushing of 
trees around them. On the opposite side sat the 
four men consoled by the single fact, that they 
were in the safest place that could ba provided 
in the present danger. 

Which would conquer — the hurricane or the 
pine forest? For a while it seemed that victory 
must be with the former. In the tearing and 
the bending and uprooting of pines it appeared 
that not one would be left unscathed. But it was 
only a temporary victory, for soon the great 
black cloud went screaming away like a hideous, 
giant monster worsted in a combat. 

The light of the day came back almost as soon 
as it disappeared. Forth from their place of 
refuge went the boys and men, drenched and 
chilled, only to find that a trunk of a tree lay 
across the two tents. 

A fire was started and clothes were dried. It 
was not long before work was resumed on the 
hut. 

Late that afternoon George Rivers again ap- 
peared at the camp. Although he had gotten all 
the information desirable in regard to John New- 


174 


The Pirates 


ell, and had nothing to gain by talking to the 
party, still something seemed to lure him to the 
place where he first met his young accomplice 
in evil doing. 

The visitor was talking with Mr. Charles 
Sherwood when suddenly the Red Pirate, armed 
with an axe, came up to the two men. George 
Rivers did not wait until the man reached him, 
but turned and ran down to the river bank, fol- 
lowed by the Pirate. 

The latter returned shortly and made it known 
through Mr. Baumer that the intruder owed him 
some money. 

It was the last visit of George Rivers to the 
camp. 


CHAPTER XVIII 
Within the Winter Cabin 


MONO the trees which the storm had 



1 JL crushed to the ground were pines which 
had been dead long enough to dry and harden 
without rotting. These were selected by the Pi- 
rates for making shingles. After being sawed 
into sections about two feet in length, they were 
trimmed with an axe, then split into shingles 
about an inch in thickness. 

“Just as good a shingle as could be turned 
out by a mill,” remarked Mr. Baumer, picking 
one up and showing it to the Governor. 

“This house building goes faster than I imag- 
ined,” replied the latter. “Your men finished the 
walls yesterday, cut the shingles and put them on 
to-day, and promise to complete the chimney to- 
morrow.” 

“I calculated they could do the work in this 
time,” replied the operator. “I could not afford 


176 Within the Winter Cabin 

to spend much money on a house which I’ll oc- 
cupy but one week in a year and which I may 
use but once. I’ll board up the window and 
door, and bring them ready made when I come 
to hunt. In this way I can send the men home 
on the third or fourth day.” 

At noon, when the boys returned from a ca- 
noe ride and a swim they were surprised to find 
the shingles cut and the rafters put in place. 

“If another storm comes up in the night,” said 
Ferdinand, “we can sleep in the new house with- 
out getting wet.” 

“But where can I cook?” asked Charlie Zip. 

“You will have an ideal place to-morrow,” 
explained the operator, “the chimney when fin- 
ished will give you a better draft than you have 
now.” 

The two Pirates were surprised at the material 
which they had been able to get for the purpose 
of making the shingles. The axe was placed on 
top of the pine block, one stroke was given with 
a wooden hammer, a wedge was inserted in the 
crack, and a second stroke completed the work 
of splitting a shingle. 


Within the Winter Cabin 177 

As the hut was under roof before nightfall, 
the men began to select the flat stones for the 
chimney. All assisted in carrying the stones 
from the river bed. 

‘‘I know of no other place for miles around 
where this ledge of rock could be found,’' said 
the operator to Mr. Sherwood and the boys. “In 
fact, the government survey gives the whole 
country as of glacial formation with round 
boulders as the only rock. And yet,” he con- 
tinued as he picked up a piece of the slatish stone, 
“this outcrop has never been disturbed. I am 
not scientist enough to know whether this de- 
posit missed the glacial flow, or whether it was 
formed after the glacial period.” 

“What is a glacier?” asked Mr. Sherwood of 
the boys. “You have been going to school and 
should know these things.” * 

“I know,” put in Walter. “We had it last year 
in our physical geography. Let me see — it’s — 
a ” 

“Oh, yes — a — a,” repeated Carroll. 

“Yes, yes, — a — a — a,” continued Ferdinand. 

“Is that the kind of answer you boys give at 


178 Within the Winter Cabin 

the Academy?” Mr. Sherwood wanted to 
know. 

“Let this young fellow have a chance,” inter- 
rupted the operator, pointing to Walter. 

“It’s a big mountain of flowing ice.” 

“Why not call it a valley of flowing ice or a 
field of flowing ice?” suggested Mr. Baumer. 

“Well, it’s something like that — it’s ice and 
snow, and is all moving,” said Walter. 

“I see you understand it,” acknowledged the 
man. “Some glaciers are so heavy that they tear 
up the ground beneath them and grind the rocks 
until they are quite round. Luckily for us this 
ledge was missed by the glacier, for it left layer 
after layer of flat stones for us to build our chim- 
ney. But get busy; these men are telling me 
that there is too much talking and too little 
work.” 

By noon of the third day the chimney was 
completed. A fire was built at once ; not a large 
one, but just sufficient to dry the mud in the 
crevices. 

That night, as it was chilly, all gathered 
within the hut in front of the glowing pine logs. 


Within the Winter Cabin 179 

where they listened to Mr. Baumer recounting 
his adventures in the northern woods. The Red 
Pirate gave an account of walrus fishing in the 
Arctic Ocean, the operator acting as interpreter. 

It was a stirring incident about six men on 
an ice-floe with the sea monsters leaping after 
them. 

“And now you must tell us something, Uncle 
Charles,” cried out Walter, all excited by the 
wonderful accounts to which he had listened. 

“I am not much at story-telling,” replied the 
Governor, “but I did hear a fish-story once which 
I believe will match anything that we have lis- 
tened to to-night.” 

“Go on with it,” was the general demand. 

“It was down on the Ohio River,” began Mr. 
Sherwood. “An old negro was plowing corn 
in a field close to the river bank. As it was a 
warm day he untied his mule and went to take 
a dip in the water. 

“Some of you may not know that large catfish 
deposit their eggs under flat stones and stay to 
guard them against crawfish. At such times they 
are not easily frightened. In fact, the negroes 


i8o 


Within the Winter Cabin 


dive down, feel around under the rocks, and on 
finding a fish catch it by the gills and drag it out. 

^‘The old negro, to whom I refer, felt around 
a rather large rock to try his luck. Lucky he 
was! He found a fish the size of — well— it was 
the size of — of — of the largest walrus that our 
friend hunted in the Arctic Ocean. No, it was 
larger — much larger — as you will see before I 
finish my story.’^ 

Charles Sherwood paused and stirred the logs. 

“He is putting on,” protested Walter. 

“I’ll bet it is going to be the size of a small 
trout,” claimed Carroll. 

“Yes, yes,” resumed the Governor, slowly stir- 
ring the glowing coals. “A very — very big 
fish. The old negro got his hand under a gill 
and gave a — pull — pull — pull. But would you 
believe it, the fish didn’t stir. It was so large 
that the old negro couldn’t move it. 

“After coming to the surface and taking a 
long breath the old gentleman tried it again. 
Pull — pull — pull — p-u-1-1, but the fish wouldn’t 
move. 

“Leaving the water, the colored man stood 


Within the Winter Cabin 


i8i 

thinking of some means of getting the monster 
ashore. Suddenly he began to smile. He went 
to the field and unhitched the mule.” 

‘‘Great fish-story,” cried Mr. Baumer, who 
tried in vain to explain it to the lumbermen. 

“It was gone when he came back,” asserted 
Carroll. 

“No, no, the fish was there,” said the speaker. 
“The negro brought with him the rope used for 
the plow-line. Diving down he succeeded in 
slipping the rope through the gills of the fish and 
tying it tight. Then he brought the mule close 
to the water's edge, and fastened the rope to the 
traces. ‘Get up,’ he cried, and started the mule 
down the hill.” 

“How much did the fish weigh?” asked the 
operator. 

“It broke the plow-line,” claimed Walter. 

“It held on to the rock,” said Carroll. 

“I know,” cried Charles Zip, “it weighed fifty 
pounds.” 

“It is a sad story, the rest of it — a — s-a-d, 
s-a-d story,” drawled out the Governor, who sat 
looking into the fire. 


Within the Winter Cabin 


182 

“It’s only a dream,” was the explanation of- 
fered by Ferdinand. 

“Tell us, Uncle Charles,” protested Walter. 

“Yes, yes, it-is-sad. But I must finish it. 
That catfish gave one flap of its tail and, Mr. 
Baumer and boys, the mule hasn’t been heard of 
since that day.” 

The boys applauded and the operator cried 
aloud: “The best fish-story that I ever heard — 
just beats them all — ^just beats them all!” 

The Pirates joined in with the general laugh- 
ter although they understood little of what was 
said. 

“Why, it is almost midnight,” exclaimed the 
Governor, looking at his watch. “You boys get 
to bed.” 

“I am hungry,” whined Carroll. 

“So is this fellow,” chimed in Charlie Zip. 

All agreed that a lunch would be most wel- 
come. When it was finished it was past one 
o’clock; even then the Governor had some dhn- 
culty in getting the boys to bed. 

Walter and Carroll brought their cots from 
the tent and slept in the new hut. In fact they 


IVithin the Winter Cabin 183 

made it their home during the rest of the camp- 
ing. 

On the following morning the two Pirates de- 
parted, much to the regret of the campers. Af- 
ter two days Mr. Clair Baumer also returned 
to his station at Keeseville, taking the bearskin 
for the museum. Each morning and night he 
and Ferdinand exchanged messages. 

No other visitors came to the camp during the 
rest of the vacation. The days passed quickly 
until finally it was time for striking the tents. 
There was a touch of sadness in the work, and 
even the ‘‘Kingfisher’' forgot to chatter, and fell 
back into his mood of silence. The camp had be- 
come a second home to the boys, who did not 
relish the idea of returning to the warm and 
dusty city. The Governor, who had already 
stretched the time two days, now positively re- 
fused to concede any further extension. Pro- 
visions, too, were about exhausted. 

The wireless outfit was removed from the pine- 
trees, the tents were struck, and all the baggage 
lay in a heap. Then began the work of carrying 
everything to the top of the hill. As Farmer 


184 within the Winter Cabin 

Riggs was paid to help in this, his powerful arms 
considerably lessened the task. 

And now it was noon and the farmer’s horses 
were picking their way along the narrow road. 

Suddenly Ferdinand turned and cried: ‘‘Take 
a last look at the two pines !” 

“Good-bye, old pines!” shouted Carroll. 

“Good-bye, old camp!” yelled Walter. 

Yes, good-bye to the trees! Good-bye to the 
camp ! Good-bye to the river, the darksome 
woods, night’s music overhead, and glorious 
sports of day! Good-bye to it all! Good-bye 
to the Michigan pine forest. The Camp by Cop- 
per River, good-bye ! 


CHAPTER XIX 
The Copper From Copper River 

T he Camp by Copper River was now a 
memory. Vacation days had passed, and 
the boys had returned to school. 

At the request of Mr. Charles Sherwood the 
case of John Newell had been dismissed from 
court, after the watch had been restored to its 
owner, and all money had been paid back to those 
from whom it had been taken. 

Charlie Zip was working as a messenger boy 
in the Fowler Furniture Company. 

One morning Will Starling was driving his 
express-wagon down West Lake Street, whis- 
tling as he went along. Then his tune stopped 
short and his features became serious. For six 
months he had worked for the Northwestern Ex- 
press Company, holding the same position that 
Father Lilly had secured for him. Twice had his 
wages been raised. Although prospects seemed 


i86 The Copper From Copper River 

bright he was not satisfied, for he did not like 
city life and could not grow accustomed to it. 
He sighed for the freedom of the country, and 
looked forward anxiously to the time when he 
would be able to get the little farm called Clay 
Banks. The owner had promised to let him have 
the farm on easy payments as soon as he could 
put down two hundred dollars. He had made 
over half the sum. How long would it take him 
to put aside the rest? As he was thinking over 
the matter, he was distracted by a voice from the 
street. John Newell was the one addressing him. 

“Hello, kid!” said John. 

“Hello, yourself!” 

“Say, kid, do you want to make a little extra 
money?” 

“Fm your man.” 

“Are you busy these days?” 

“Not so very busy.” 

“Suppose you meet me every day near this 
place and take a load for me.” 

“Will I have to use the company’s wagon?” 

“Of course, what else could you use?” 


The Copper From Copper River 187 

“Can’t do it; it’s against orders.” 

“Oh, hang the orders ! May be fifty dollars in 
it.” 

Fifty dollars! Will Starling thought for a 
moment. “Say, I’ll meet you here about this 
time to-morrow.” 

“Good! Old fellow. I’ll be right here,” and 
John Newell turned and walked away. 

He had entirely misunderstood the purpose of 
the driver. Will Starling had his faults ; but one 
thing had been impressed upon his mind by the 
words of Father Lilly. He should be true to 
the Express Company. Time and again did the 
priest speak to the boys in the chapel and in the 
recreation room about fidelity to employers. 
One thoughtless, unfaithful boy could give a bad 
name to the whole institution, and ruin the pros- 
pects of other boys of the Home. 

This lesson was remembered by Will Starling, 
who went to the office that afternoon, and asked 
to speak to the foreman. He explained that he 
had an offer to make fifty dollars and wanted to 
use the wagon. 


i88 The Copper From Copper River 

The officer replied that it could not possibly 
be done, for such a concession would lead to all 
kinds of irregularities in the service. 

As the boy was leaving the office he was called 
back; for it had suddenly occurred to the man 
at the desk that something was wrong. ‘‘How 
many trips will you have to make to earn the 
fifty dollars ?” he asked. 

“I forgot to ask, sir.” 

“Who made the offer to you?” 

“A boy about my age.” 

“And he offered you fifty dollars ?” 

“That’s what he said, sir.” 

“This is worth looking into,” mused the man. 
“Sit down,” he said. “You have been a good 
and faithful worker. I will make an exception 
for you this time. Meet the boy at the place and 
carry whatever he has. Work all day for him 
if you wish. Don’t tell him you have permis- 
sion. Just work and then come and report to 
me. Try to be here before five.” 

“Thank you, sir,” and Will Starling went 
away happy. 

The man at the desk called up the police head- 


The Copper From Copper River 189 

quarters. ‘This is the Northern Express Com- 
pany/’ said he, “Eve an interesting case here. 
Send a man around in plain clothes with motor- 
cycle, I believe I can give him a clue to some 
theft.” 

“When will he call?” 

“To-morrow morning at half-past seven.” 

“He will be there.” 

On the following morning, when Will Star- 
ling drove his wagon out of the western yard of 
the express company, two men were watching 
from the office. 

“Wagon 620 — boy 15 years old — driving 
white horse. That’s sufficient,” said the plain 
clothes man to the clerk of the Northern Express 
Company. “I’ll follow and report.” 

True to his word, John Newell met the boy 
in the express-wagon, and both drove off toward 
a lumber-yard, all unconscious of the fact that 
they were being followed. 

The wagon turned south from Lake Street to 
Western Avenue. Near the river the boys en- 
tered an alley and found their way into a lumber- 
yard. 


190 The Copper From Copper River 

As they drove along John Newell explained 
the nature of the work. His father had bought 
some copper in northern Michigan and had it 
shipped in a lumber-boat to Chicago. A man 
had been hired to haul the copper to an old barn 
rented for the purpose, had suddenly left off the 
work, and some one was needed to complete it. 
From three to five days would be required, and 
fifty dollars was the reward. 

John Newell was telling only a part of the 
truth, for the man whose services had at first 
been secured, scenting danger, had left him after 
hauling but one load. John was anxious to get 
a registered express wagon, as it would be less 
open to suspicion. 

Into the lumber-yard they drove; and in fol- 
lowed the detective on his motorcycle. The lat- 
ter in a careless way, that created no suspicion, 
came up to the two boys, who with a man were 
removing some lumber from over a pile of cop- 
per bars. 

All day long the man followed the boys. He 
learned how much copper had been brought in 
the vessel from Lake Superior, the location of 


The Copper From Copper River 191 

the barn where the treasure was being stored, and 
the name and address of John Newell. 

Records at the police office showed that young 
Newell, the son of a well-known broker, had 
been arrested four months before for stealing. 

Wires were soon busy between Chicago and 
Keeseville, Michigan. George Rivers and the 
captain of the lumber-boat were arrested. 

John Newell’s father was again forced to give 
bail, and the copper was seized by the authorities. 
The foreman at the lumber-yard was severely 
reprimanded by the court. 

Two months later Rivers was sentenced to five 
years in the Michigan penitentiary. John New- 
ell, being under age, was placed in the juvenile 
reform school, to remain until he was twenty- 
one. 

He was sent to the kitchen and set to work 
under the same cook who had been kind to 
Charlie Zip. 

“My boy,” said the cook, “I have helped many 
a fellow to make a man of himself, and I’ll do all 
I can for you. The last boy here was called Zip. 
I had a letter from him a short time ago with 


192 The Copper From Copper River 

the good news that he was doing well.” Draw- 
ing the letter from his pocket he handed it to 
John Newell; but the boy turned away in a flood 
of tears. 

In the silence that followed John Newell heard 
the crash of the great iron door, as it swung and 
was locked. 

Charlie Zip is still working for the Fowler 
Furniture Company. Will Starling came in 
from his farm recently, and the two, who are 
now fast friends, visited Father Lilly. Carroll 
and Walter are finishing their course at Devon 
Academy, and with them is Ferdinand, who is a 
leader in the physics class. 

And the bear! If you want to see the bear 
you have only to visit the Field Museum in Chi- 
cago — section 5, case 37. It is eating a pig and 
smiling — really smiling! It is known to visitors 
as the smiling bear — but the boys from Devon 
Academy call it Carroll Cage. 


PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHEHS, NEW YORK. 


STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS 

PUBLISHED BY 

BENZIGER BROTHERS 

CINCINNATI: NEW YORK: Chicago: 

343 Main St. 36-38 Barclay St. 214-i5l6 W. Monroe St. 


Books not marked net will be sent postpaid on receipt of advertised 
price. Books marked net are such where ten per cent, must be added 
for postage. Thus a book advertised as net, $1.00, will be sent post- 
paid on receipt of $1.10. 

Complete descriptive catalogue sent free on application. 


INSTRUCTION, DOCTRINE, APOLOGETICS, CONTROVERSY, 
DEVOTION, MEDITATION, THEOLOGY, LITURGY, HOLY 
SCRIPTURE, BIBLE, SERMONS, PHILOSOPHY, SCIENCE, 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY 


ABANDONMEN*^ or. Absolute Surrender of Self to Divine 

Providence. Caussade, S.J. net, 

ADORATION OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT. Tes- 
ni8re. 

ANECDOTES AND EXAMPLES ILLUSTRATING THE 
CATHOLIC CATECHISM. Spirago. net, 

ANGELS OF THE SANCTUARY. For Altar Boys. Mus- 


ser. net, 

ART OF PROFITING BY OUR FAULTS. Tissot. net, 

ASSERTIO SEPTEM SACRAMENTORUM; or, Defence of 
the Seven Sacraments, by Henry VIII, O’Donovan, net, 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ST. IGNATIUS. O’Conor, S.J. net, 

BEGINNINGS OF CHRISTIANITY, THE. A history of 
conditions of Christian life in the first three centuries of 
our era. Shahan. net, 

BENEDICENDA; or. Rites and Ceremonies to be Observed 
in some of the Principal Functions of the Roman Pon- 
tifical and Roman Ritual. Schulte. net, 

BLOSSOMS OF THE CROSS. For those who lead a life 
of suffering or seclusion. Giehrl. 

BONOMELLI, RT. REV. J. HOMILIES ON THE EPIS- 
TLES AND GOSPELS. 4 vols. net, 

— HOMILIES ON THE COMMON OF SAINTS. 2 vols. net, 

— THE CHRISTIAN MYSTERIES; or. Discourses for All 

the Great Feasts except Those of the Blessed Virgin. 

4 vols. net, 

BOOK OF THE PROFESSED. Vols. I, II, III. Each. net, 
BOY-SAVER’S GUIDE. Society Work for Lads in Their 
Teens. Quin, S.J. net, 

BUDS AND BLOSSOMS. Spiritual Readings for All Sea- 
sons. Colton. net, 

CASES OF CONSCIENCE for English-speaking Countries. 

Sl/iTer, S.J. 2 vols. net, 

CATECHISM EXPLAINED. Spirago. net, 

CATHOLIC BELIEF. Faa di Bruno. Paper, net, 0.10; 

Cloth, net, 

CATHOLIC CEREMONIES. Durand. 111. Paper, 0.20; 


Cloth, 


0 50 

0 50 

1 50 

0 16 
0 50 

0 75 

1 25 


2 00 


1 50 
1 26 

5 00 

2 50 


5 00 

0 75 

1 35 

1 25 

3 50 

2 50 

0 35 


1 


0 50 


0 25 


CATHOLIC HOME ANNUAL. Calendars, Stories, etc. 

111 . 

CATHOLIC PRACTICE AT CHURCH AND AT HOME. 

Klauder. Paper, 0.25: Cloth, 0 60 

CATHOLIC TEACHING FOR CHILDREN. Wray. 

Paper, 0.15; Cloth, 0 35 

CHARACTERISTICS OF TRUE DEVOTION. Grou, S.J. net, 0 75 
CHARITiT THE ORIGIN OF EVERY BLESSING. net, 0 50 

CHILD PREPARED FOR FIRST COMMUNION, THE. 

Z'JLUETA, S.J. 0 05 

CHRISTIAN APOLOGETICS. A Defence of the Catholic 

Faith. Devivier. net, 2 00 

CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. O’Connell. net, 0 60 

CHRISTIAN FATHER, THE. Instructions. Cramer. 

Paper, 0.15; Cloth, 0 35 

CHRISTIAN MOTHER, THE. Instructions. Cramer. 

Paper, 0.15; Cloth, 0 35 

CHRIST IN TYPE AND PROPHECY. Maas. Vols. I and 


II. Each, 

CHRIST’S TEACHING CONCERNING DIVORCE IN 
THE NEW TESTAMENT. Gigot. 

CLERGYMAN’S HANDBOOK OF LAW. Scanlan. 
COMPENDIUM JURIS CANONICI. Smith. 
COMPENDIUM JURIS REGULARIUM. Bachoeen. 
COMPENDIUM SACRAE LITURGIAE. Wapelhorst. 
CONSECRANDA; or. Rites and Ceremonies Observed at the 
Consecration of Churches, Altars, etc. Schulte. 
CORRECT THING FOR CATHOLICS, THE. Bugg. 
COUNSELS OF ST. ANGELA TO HER SISTERS IN RE- 
LIGION. 

DEVOTIONS TO THE SACRED HEART FOR THE 
FIRST FRIDAY OF EVERY MONTH. Huguet. 
DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS, THE. 
Noldin, S.J. 

DIGNITY AND DUTIES OF THE PRIEST. Liguori. 
DIVINE GRACE. Explains the doctrine of the Church on 
divine grace. Wirth. 

DIVINE OFFICE. Explanation of Psalms and Canticles. 
Liguori. 


DOGMATIC THEOLOGY, OUTLINES OF. Hunter. 

Vols. I, II, III. Each, 

ECCLESIASTICAL DICTIONARY. Thein. 

EDUCATION OF OUR GIRLS, THE. Shields. 
ELEMENTS OF ECCLESIASTICAL LAW. Smith. Vols. 
I, II, III. Each, 

ENCYCLICAL LETTERS OF POPE LEO XIII. 
EPISTLES AND GOSPELS. Large type. 

EUCHARISTIC CHRIST. Reflections on the Blessed Sacra- 
ment. TesniSre. 


EXPLANATION OF BIBLE HISTORY. Nash. 
EXPLANATION OF CATHOLIC MORALS. Stapleton. 
EXPLANATION OF THE BALTIMORE CATECHISM. 
Kinkead. 


EXPLANATION OF THE COMMANDMENTS. Rolfus. 
EXPLANATION OF THE CREED. Rolfus. 
EXPLANATION OF THE GOSPELS AND CATHOLIC 
WORSHIP. Lambert. Paper, 0.20; Cloth, 
EXPLANATION OF THE HOLY SACRAMENTS. Rol- 


net, 2 00 

net, 1 50 
net, 1 35 
net, 2 00 
net, 2 50 
net, 2 50 

net, 1 50 
0 50 

net, 0 25 

0 25 

net, 1 25 
net, 1 60 

net, 1 00 

net, 1 60 

net, 1 60 
net, 6 00 
net, 1 00 

net, 2 25 
net, 2 25 
0 26 

net, 1 25 
net, 1 60 
0 60 

net, 1 00 
0 50 
0 50 

0 60 


FUS. 

EXPLANATION OF THE MASS. Cochem. 
EXPLANATION OF THE OUR FATHER AND THE 
HAIL MARY. Liguori. 


net, 


0 60 
0 60 

0 75 


2 


EXPLANATION OF THE PRAYERS AND CEREMONIES 
OF THE MASS. Lanslots, O.S.B. 

EXPLANATION OF THE SALVE REGINA. Liguori. 
EXTREME UNCTION. Phillips. 

FLOWERS OF THE PASSION. Devout Thoughts. 

FOR FREQUENT COMMUNICANTS. 

FOUR LAST THINGS. Meditations. Cochem. 
FUNDAMENTALS OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. Trans- 
lated by Rev. T. P. M. Schleuter, S.J. 

GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE 
HOLY SCRIPTURES. Gigot. 

GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE 
HOLY SCRIPTURES. Abridged. Gigot. 

GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. 
Verheyen. 

GENTLEMAN, A. Manners and Social Usages. Egan. 
GIFT OF THE KING, T^E. An Explanation of the Mass 
for Children. 

GLORIES AND TRIUMPHS OF THE CATHOLIC 
CHURCH, THE. 

GLORIES OF DIVINE GRACE, THE. Scheeben. 
GLORIES OF MARY, THE. Vols. I and II. Liguori. 
Each, 

GLORIES OF MARY. Popular edition. 

GLORIES OF THE SACRED HEART. Hausherr, S.J. 
GOD, CHRIST AND THE CHURCH. Hammer. 
GOFFINE’S DEVOUT INSTRUCTIONS. 

GOLDEN SANDS. Counsels for the Sanctification and 
Happiness of Daily Life. 3 vols. Each, 

GREAT MEANS OF SALVATION, THE. Liguori. 
GREAT SUPPER, THE. Discourses on Weekly Commun- 
ion. COUBE, S.J. 

GREETINGS TO THE CHRIST CHILD. Poems for Chil- 
dren. 

GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT OF THE CATHOLIC 
SCHOOL SYSTEM IN THE UNITED STATES. 
Burns. 

GUIDE FOR SACRISTANS. 

HANDBOOK OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. Wil- 
mers, S.J. 

HARMONY OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. Heuser. 

HELPS TO A SPIRITUAL LIFE. Schneider. 

HIDDEN TREASURE; or. The Value and Excellence of 
Holy Mass. Blessed Leonard. Paper, 0.15; Cloth, 
HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. Alzog. 3 
vols. 

HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. Businger- 
Brennan. 8vo. 

HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. Businger- 
Brennan. 12mo 

HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. Brueck. 
2 vols. 

HISTORY OF ECONOMICS. Dewe. 

HISTORY OF THE MASS. O’Brien. 

HISTORY OF THE PROTESTANT REFORMATION. 

Cobb EXT. 

HOLY EUCHARIST AND FREQUENT AND DAILY 
COMMUNION. O’Connell. Paper, 0.25; Cloth, 
HOLY EUCHARIST, THE. Liguori. 

HOLY HOUR, THE. Keiley. 

HOLY MASS, THE. Liguori. 


net, 

1 

25 

net. 

0 

75 


0 

05 


0 

50 


0 

05 

net. 

0 

75 

net. 

0 

60 

net. 

2 

50 

net. 

1 

50 

net. 

0 

30 


0 

50 


0 

60 


2 

oo 

net. 

1 

60 

net. 

1 

50 


0 

50 


0 

60 


2 

OO 


1 

OO 

net. 

0 

50 

net. 

1 

50 

net. 

1 

25 


0 

60 

net, 

1 

75 

net. 

0 

85 

net. 

1 

50 

net. 

1 

25 


0 

50 


0 

35 

net. 

8 

00 


2 

00 


0 

60 

net. 

3 

00 

net. 

1 

50 

net. 

1 

25 


0 

50 


0 

60 

net. 

1 

50 


0 

05 

net. 

1 

50 


8 


HOLY VIATICUM OF LIFE AS OF DEATH, THE. 

A provision for the journey of life as well as of death. 

Dever. net, o 76 

HOLY WEEK, COMPLETE OFFICE OF. Cheap Edition, 

cloth, net, 0.20; Cloth, 0 45 

HOW TO COMFORT THE SICK. Krebs. 0 60 

HOW TO MAKE THE MISSION. 0 10 

INCARNATION, BIRTH, AND INFANCY OF CHRIST. 

Liguori. net, 1 60 

INDEX TO LIGUORI WORKS. net, 0 10 

IN HEAVEN WE KNOW OUR OWN. For those who have 

lost dear ones by death. Blot, S.T. net, 0 60 

INSTRUCTIONS FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS. 

Schmitt. nei, 0 60 

INSTRUCTIONS ON THE COMMANDMENTS AND SAC- 
RAMENTS. Liguori. Paper, 0.15; Cloth, 0 35 

INSTRUCTIONS ON MARRIAGE, POPULAR. Girardey. 

Paper, 0.16; Cloth, 0 35 

INSTRUCTIONS ON PRAYER, POPULAR. Girardey. 

Paper, 0.15; Cloth, 0 35 

INSTRUCTIONS TO PARENTS, POPULAR. Girardey. 

Paper, 0.15; Cloth, 0 35 

INTERIOR OF JESUS AND MARY. Grou, S.J. 2 vols. net, 2 00 

JESUS LIVING IN THE PRIEST. Millet-Byrne. net, 2 00 

LADY, A. Manners and Social Usages. Bugg. 0 50 

LAWS OF THE SAVIOUR. Talks on the Commandments 

for Children. 0 60 

LESSONS OF THE SAVIOUR. Christ’s Miracles Described 

for Children. 0 60 

LETTERS OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 6 vols. 

Each, net, 1 50 

LIFE OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Rohner-Brennan. 0 50 

LIFE OF CHRIST. Businger-Brennan. Profusely illus- 
trated. net, 10 00 

LIFE OF CHRIST. Cochem-Hammer. 0 60 

LIFE OF CHRIST. Adapted from Businger. Mullett. 2 00 

LIFE OF SISTER ANNE KATHARINE EMMERICH. 

McGowan. net, 1 75 

LIFE OF VEN. CRESCENTIA HOSS. net, 1 25 

LIGHT FOR NEW TIMES. A Book for Catholic Young 

Women. Fletcher. net, 0 60 

LIGUORI. COMPLETE WORKS. Vols. I-XXII. Each, net, 1 50 

LITTLE MASS BOOK. Lynch. 0 05 

LITTLE OFFICE OF THE IMMACULATE CONCEP- 
TION. 0 05 

LIVES OF THE SAINTS. Adapted from Alban Butler. 0 60 

LIVES OF THE SAINTS FOR CHILDREN. Berthold. 0 60 

LIVES OF THE SAINTS, PICTORIAL. Shea. Ulus- 

trated. 3 00 

LIVES OF THE SAINTS, SHORT. Donnelly. 0 60 

LIVES OF THE SAINTS, LITTLE PICTORIAL. Illus- 
trated. 1 25 

LOURDES. Its Inhabitants, Its Pilgrims and Miracles. 

Clarke, S.J. 0 50 

MANUAL OF HOMILETICS AND CATECHETICS. 

ScHUECH. net, 1 25 

MANUAL OF MORAL THEOLOGY. Slater, S.J. Vols. 

I and II. Each, net, 2 75 

MANUAL OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE AND CHRISTIAN 

PERFECTION. Henry, C.SS.R. Paper, 0.25; Cloth, 0 60 

MANUAL OF THEOLOGY FOR THE LAITY! GeieR'^ 

MANN. C.SS.R. Paper, 0.25; Cloth, 0 60 

4 


MARY. HELP OF CHRISTIANS. Instructions, Legends, 

Novenas, and Prayers. Hammer. 2 00 

MARY THE QUEEN. A Life of the Blessed Virgin for 

Children 0 60 

MEANS OF GRACE. Complete Explanation of the Sacra- 
ments. Fully illustrated. Rolfus-Braendle. 3 00 

MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY. Baxter. net, 1 50 

MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY. Hamon. 5 vols. net, 5 00 

MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY. Vercruysse, S.J. 

2 vols. net, 3 60 

MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY OF MONTH. 

Nepveu-Ryan. net, 0 76 

MEDITATIONS FOR MONTHLY RETREATS. For Re- 
ligious. • net, 0 60 

MEDITATIONS FOR RETREATS. St. Francis de 

Sales. net, 0 85 

MEDITATIONS FOR THE USE OF THE SECULAR 

CLERGY. 2 vols. Chaignon, S.J. net, 4 60 

MEDITATIONS ON THE LIFE, THE TEACHINGS, 

AND THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. Ilg. 

2 vols. net, 3 60 

MEDITATIONS ON THE MONTH OF OUR LADY. 

Mullaney. net. 0 75 

MEDITATIONS ON THE PASSION. By a Passionist. 0 50 

MEDITATIONS ON THE SUFFERINGS OF JESUS 

CHRIST. Perinaldo. net, 0 75 

MIDDLE AGES, THE. Sketches covering the period from 

the fifth to the fifteenth century. Shahan. net, 2 00 

MISCELLANY. Liguori. net, 1 60 

MOMENTS BEFORE THE TABERNACLE. Prayers and 

Aspirations. Russell, S.J. net, 0 50 

MONTH. LITTLE, OF THE SOULS IN PURGATORY, net. 0 25 

MONTH OF MAY, LITTLE. net. 0 25 

MONTH. NEW, OF THE HOLY ANGELS. Sx. Francis 

DE Sales. net, 0 25 

MORAL PRINCIPLES AND MEDICAL PRACTICE. 

Coppens, S.J. net, 1 00 

MORE SPIRITUAL READINGS FOR MARY’S CHIL- 
DREN. Madame Cecilia. 0 60 

MY FIRST COMMUNION. The Happiest Day of My 

Life. Buchmann-Brennan. net, 0 75 

NEW TESTAMENT. 32mo, flexible cloth, net, 0 18 

NEW TESTAMENT. Illustrated. net, 0 60 

NEW TESTAMENT. (India Paper.) Leather, gold 

edges, net, 0 SO 

NEW TESTAMENT. 12mo. 0 50 

OUR OWN WILL and How to Detect it in Our Actions. 

Allen. net, 0 85 

OUTLINES OF NEW TESTAMENT HISTORY. Gigot. net, 1 50 
OUTLINES OF SERMONS FOR YOUNG MEN AND 

YOUNG WOMEN. Schuen. itet, 2 00 

PARADISE ON EARTH; or, A Religious Vocation the 

Surest Way in Life. Natale, S.J. net, 0 50 

PARISH PRIEST ON DUTY, THE. Heuser. net, 0 60 

PASSION AND DEATH OF JESUS CHRIST. Liguori. net, 1 50 
PASTORAL THEOLOGY. Stang. net, 1 50 

PATRON SAINTS FOR CATHOLIC YOUTH. Illus- 
trated. Vols. I, II, III. Mannix. Each. 0 60 

PATRON SAINTS FOR CATHOLIC YOUTH. Illus- 
trated. Mannix. Each. 0 10 

St. Agnes, St. Aloysius, St. Anre, St. Anthony, St. 

Blase, St. Bernard, St. Bridget, St. Catharine, St. Ce- 

5 


cilia, St. Charles, St. Clare, St. Elizabeth, St. Francis 
Xavier, St. Helena, St. Joseph, St. Louis, St. Mar- 
garet, St. Martin of Tours, St. Michael, St. Monica, 
St. Patrick, St. Philip Neri, St. Rose of Lima, St. 
T cress 

PEARLS FROM FABER. Selections from Plis Works. 


Brunowe. net, 0 50 

PERFECT RELIGIOUS, THE. D’Orleans de la Motte. net, 1 00 

PHILOSOPHIA MORALI, DE. Russo. net, 2 00 

POLITICAL AND MORAL ESSAYS. Rickaby, S.J. net, 1 75 

PRAXIS SYNODALIS. net, 0 75 

PREACHING. Liguori. net, 1 50 

PREPARATION FOR DEATH. Liguori. net, 1 50 

PRINCIPLES, ORIGIN AND ESTABLISHMENT OF 
THE CATHOLIC SCHOOL SYSTEM IN THE U. S. 

Burns. net, 1 75 

PRIVATE RETREAT FOR RELIGIOUS. Geiermann, 

C.SS.R. net, 1 50 

PULPIT SKETCHES. Outlines of Sermons. Lambert, net, 1 25 

QUEEN’S FESTIVALS, THE. Instructions on the Feasts 

of the Blessed Virgin for Children. 0 60 

REASONABLENESS OF CATHOLIC CEREMONIES 

AND PRACTICES. Burke. Paper, 0.15; Cloth, 0 35 

RELIGIOUS STATE, THE. Liguori. net, 0 50 

RETREATS FOR SISTERS, TWO. Wirth. net, 1 00 

RIGHTS OF OUR LITTLE ONES. On education. Con- 

WAY, S.J. 0 05 

RITUALE COMPENDIOSUM. Sacristy Ritual. net, 0 90 


ROMA. Ancient, Subterranean, and Modern Rome in Word 
and Picture. By Rev. Albert Kuhn, O.S.B., D.D. 

Preface by Cardinal Gibbons. 18 bi-monthly parts, each 
0.35 postpaid. Subscription by the year, 6 parts, 2.00; 
complete work, 6.00. 938 text illustrations, 40 full-page 

illustrations, 3 plans of Rome in colors. The best and 
most thorough production of its kind. 

ROMAN CURIA AS IT, NOW EXISTS. Martin, S.J. net, 1 50 
ROSARY, THE. Instructions on the Rosary for young men 


and women. Garesche, S.J. net, 0 50 

ROSARY, THE CROWN OF MARY, THE. 0 10 

RULES OF LIFE FOR THE PASTOR OF SOULS. 

Slater-Rauch. net, 0 75 

SACRAMENTALS. The Sacramentals of the Church Ex- 
plained. Lambing. Paper, 0.20; Cloth, 0 60 

SACRED HEART STUDIED IN THE SACRED SCRIP- 
TURES, THE. Saintrain, C.SS.R. 0 60 

SACRIFICE OF THE MASS WORTHILY CELEBRATED. 

Chaignon, S.J. net, 1 60 

SAINTS AND PLACES. Ayscough. Description of Italy’s 

most historic spots. 22 full-page illustrations. net, 1 50 

ST. ANTHONY. ANECDOTES AND EXAMPLES. 

Keller. net, 0 75 

ST. ANTHONY, THE SAINT OF THE WHOLE WORLD. 

Ward. 0 50 

SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI: SOCIAL REFORMER. 

Dubois. 0 60 

SECRET OF SANCTITY. Crasset. 0 60 

SERMONS FOR CHILDREN OF MARY. Callerio. net, 1 50 

SERMONS FOR CHILDREN’S MASSES. Frassinetti. net, 1 50 

SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS. Liguori. net, 1 50 

SERMONS FOR THE SUNDAYS AND CHIEF FESTI- 
VALS OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL YEAR. 2 vols. 
Pottge^ser. net, 3 00 


SERMONS FROM THE LATINS. Baxter. net. 2 00 

SERMONS, FUNERAL. Wirth. Vols. I and II. Each, net, 1 00 
SERMONS, LENTEN. Wirth. net, 2 00 

SERMONS, NEW AND OLD. Wirth. 8 vols. Each, net, 2 00 
SERMONS ON THE BLESSED SACRAMENT. 

Scheurer-Lasance. net. 1 50 

SERMONS ON THE DEVOTION TO THE SACRED 

HEIART. Six. Bierbaum. net. 0 75 

SERMONS, SHORT, FOR LOW MASSES. Schouppe. net, 1 25 
SERMONS, SHORT. Hunolt. 5 vols. (Wirth.) Each, net, 2 00 
SHORT CONFERENCES ON THE SACRED HEART. 


Brinkmeyer. net, 0 75 

SHORT COURSE IN CATHOLIC DOCTRINE. For Non- 

Catholics Intending Marriage with Catholics. 0 10 

SHORT HISTORY OF MORAL THEOLOGY. Slater, 

SJ. net, 0 60 

SHORT MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY. Lasausse. 0 50 
SHORT STORIES ON CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. net, 1 00 

SIMPLE INSTRUCTIONS FOR FIRST COMMUNION, 0 05 

SOCIALISM AND CHRISTIANITY. Stang. net, 1 00 

SOCIALISM: ITS THEORETICAL BASIS AND PRAC- 
TICAL APPLICATION. Cathrein, S.T. net, 1 50 

SOCIALISM, MORALITY OF MODERN. Ming, SJ. net, 1 60 

SOCIALISM, RELIGION AND CHARACTERISTICS OF. 

Ming, S.J. net, 1 50 

SOUVENIR OF THE NOVITIATE. net, 0 50 

SPECIAL INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE 

OLD TESTAMENT. Part I. Gigot. net, 1 60 

SPECIAL INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE 

OLD TESTAMENT. Part II. Gigot. net, 2 00 

SPIRAGO’S METHOD OF CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. 

Messmer. net, 1 60 

SPIRITUAL CONSIDERATIONS. Buckler, O.P. net, 1 26 

SPIRITUAL DESPONDENCY AND TEMPTATIONS. 

Michel, S.J. net, 1 26 

SPIRITUAL EXERCISES FOR A TEN DAYS’ RE- 
TREAT. Smetana, C.SS.R. net, 0 75 

SPIRITUAL PEPPER AND SALT. Stang. Paper, 0.25; 

Cloth, 0 60 

SPIRIT OF SACRIFICE AND TFIE LIFE OF SACRI- 
FICE IN THE RELIGIOUS STATE. Giraud-Thurs- 


TON. net, 2 00 

SPOILING THE DIVINE FEAST. Zulueta. 0 05 

STORIES FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS. Keller. net, 0 60 
STORIES OF THE MIRACLES OF OUR LORD, THE. 0 60 

STORY OF THE DIVINE CHILD. Lings. 0 60 

STORY OF THE FRIENDS OF JESUS. 0 60 

STORY OF JESUS. Simply Told for the Young. R. 

Mulholland. 0 60 

STRIVING AFTER PERFECTION. Bayma. net. 1 00 

SUNDAY-SCHOOL DIRECTOR’S GUIDE. Sloan. net, 0 60 

SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHER’S GUIDE. Sloan. net, 0 60 

SURE WAY TO A HAPPY MARRIAGE. Paper, 0.15; 

Cloth, 0 86 

TALKS WITH THE LITTLE ONES ABOUT THE 

APOSTLES’ CREED. 0 60 

THEORY AND PRACTICE OF THE CONFESSIONAL. 

Schieler-Heuser. net, 3 50 

THOUGHTS AND AFFECTIONS ON THE PASSION OF 
JESUS CHRIST FOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR. 

Bergamo. net, 2 00 

THOUGHTS ON THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. Lasance. net, 1 50 

7 


TRAINING OF CHILDREN. Madame Cecilia. net. 0 75 

TRUE POLITENESS, LETTERS ON. Demore. net, 0 75 

TRUE SPOUSE OF CHRIST. Liguori. 0 50 

TRUE SPOUSE OF CHRIST. Vols I and 11. Liguori. 

Each, net, 1 50 

VENERATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Rohner- 

Brennan. 0 60 

VICTORIES OF THE MARTYRS. Liguori. net, 1 50 

VIGIL HOUR. Ryan, S.T. 0 05 

VISIT TO EUROPE AND THE HOLY LAND. Fair- 
banks. 1 60 

VOCATIONS EXPLAINED. 0 10 

WAY OF THE CROSS. Paper. 0 05 

WAY OF THE CROSS. Illustrated. Eucharistic Method. 0 10 

WAY OF THE CROSS. Illustrated. Method of St. 

T^pam/^tq Aq^tct O Irt 

WAY OF THE CROSS. Illustrated. Method. Jesuit 

Father. 0 10 

WAY OF THE CROSS. Illustrated. Method St. Al- 

PHONSUS Liguori. 0 10 

WAY OF SALVATION AND OF PERFECTION. Medi- 
tations. Liguori. net, 1 50 

WAY OF INTERIOR PEACE. Brucker. net, 1 60 

WHAT CATHOLICS HAVE DONE FOR SCIENCE. 

Brennan. net, 1 25 

WHAT THE CHURCH TEACHES. Drury. Paper, 0.25; 

Cloth, f 0 60 

WHAT TIMES! WHAT MORALS! Semple, S.J. Paper, 

0.15: Cloth, 0 36 

WITH CHRIST, MY FRIEND. Sloan. net, 0 75 

NOVELS, POETRY, ETC. 

AGATPIA’S HARD SAYING. Rosa Mulholland. 0 60 

BACK TO THE WORLD. Champol. net, 1 35 

BEST STORIES BY THE FOREMOST CATHOLIC AU- 
THORS. 10 vols. 3 50 

BLACK BROTHERHOOD, THE. Garrold, S.J. net, 1 35 

BOND AND FREE. Connor. 0 50 

BUT THY .OVE AND THY GRACE. Finn, S.J. 1 00 

BY THE BLUE RIVER. I. Clarke. net, 1 35 

CARROLL DARE. Waggaman. 1 25 

CIRCUS RIDER’S DAUGHTER. Brackel. 0 60 

CONNO D’ARCY’S STRUGGLES. Bertholds. 0 50 

CORINNE’S VOW. Waggaman. 1 25 

DAUGHTER OF KINGS, A. Hinkson. 1 25 

DION AND THE SIBYLS. M. Keon. 0 60 

FABIOLA. Wiseman. Illustrated, 0 60 

FABIOLA’S SISTERS. Clarke, 0 60 

FATAL BEACON. Brackel. 1 25 

FAUSTULA. Ayscough. net, 1 35 

FLOWERS OF THE CLOISTER. Poems. Sister La 

Motte. 1 25 

FORGIVE AND FORGET. Lingen. 0 50 

FRIENDLY LITTLE HOUSE, THE, AND OTHER 

STORIES. Taggart. 0 60 

HEARTS OF GOLD. Edhor. 1 25 

HEIRESS OF CRONENSTEIN, THE. Hahn-Hahn. 0 60 

HER BLIND FOLLY. Holt. 1 25 

HER FATHER’S DAUGHTER. Hinkson. 1 26 

HER JOURNEY’S END. Cooke. 0 60 

IDOLS, Navery, U 60 


8 


IN GOD’S GOOD TIME. Ross. 

IN THE DAYS OF KING HAL. Taggart. 

‘‘KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS.” Harrison. 

LET NO MAN PUT ASUNDER. MariI 
LIGHT OF HIS COUNTENANCE, THE. Harte. 

LITTLE CARDINAL. THE. Parr. 

LINKED LIVES. Douglas. 

MARCELLA GRACE. Rosa Mulholland. 

MARIAE COROLLA. Poems on the Blessed Virgin. Hiu.. 
MELCHIOR OF BOSTON. Earls. 

MIGHTY FRIEND, THE. L'Ermite. net. 

MIRROR OF SHALOTT, THE. Benson, 

MISS ERIN. Francis. 

MONK’S PARDON, THE. Navery. 

MR. BILLY BUTTONS. Lecky. 

MY LADY BEATRICE. Cooke. 

NOT A JUDGMENT. Keon. 

OTHER MISS LISLE, THE. Martin. 

OUT OF BONDAGE. Holt. 

OUTLAW OF CAMARGUE. THE. De Lamothe. 

PASSING SHADOWS. Yorke. 

PASSION FLOWERS. Poems. Hill. 

“PAT.” Hinkson. net, 

PERE MONNIER’S WARD. Lecky. 

PILKINGTON HEIR, THE. Sadlier. 

PRISONER’S YEARS. Clarke. net, 

PRODIGAL’S DAUGHTER, THE. Bugg. 

RED INN AT ST. LYPHAR, THE. Sadlier. 

ROAD BEYOND THE TOWN, THE, AND OTHER 
POEMS. Earls. 

ROMANCE OF A PLAYWRIGHT, THE. Bornier. 

ROSE OF THE WORLD. Martin. 

ROUND TABLE OF AMERICAN CATHOLIC NOVEI^ 
ISTS. 

ROUND TABLE OF IRISH AND ENGLISH CATHOLIC 
NOVELISTS. 

ROUND TABLE OF GERMAN CATHOLIC NOVELISTS. 
ROUND TABLE OF FRENCH CATHOLIC NOVELISTS. 


ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. I. 

ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. II. 

ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. III. 

ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. IV. 

ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. V. 

ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. VI. 

ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. VII. 

ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. VIII. 

ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. IX. 

ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. Vol. X. 

RULER OF THE KINGDOM, THE. Keon. 
SECRET OF THE GREEN VASE, THE. Cooke. 
SHADOW OF EVERSLEIGH, THE. Lansdowne. 
SO AS BY FIRE. Connor. 

SOGGARTH AROON. Guinan. 

SON OF SIRO. THE. Copus. 

SONGS AND SONNETS. Egan. 

STORY OF CECILIA, THE. Hinkson. 

STUORE. Earls. 

TEMPEST OF THE HEART, THE. Gray. 

TEST OF COURAGE, THE. Ross. 

THAT MAN’S DAUGHTER. Ross. 

THEIR CHOICE. Skinner. 


A series of in- 
teresting articles 
on a great variety 
•of subjects of 
much educational 
value. Profusely 
illustrated. 


0 60 
1 25 
1 26 
1 00 
0 60 
1 26 
1 60 
0 60 
1 25 
1 00 
1 60 
1 60 
0 60 
0 60 
1 26 
0 60 
1 25 
0 60 
1 26 
0 60 
1 26 
1 26 
1 35 
1 25 
1 25 
1 36 
1 00 
1 26 

1 25 
1 00 
0 60 

1 60 

1 60 
1 60 
1 60 
1 00 
1 00 
1 00 
1 00 
1 00 
1 00 
1 00 
1 00 
1 00 
1 00 

1 26 
0 60 
0 60 

0 50 

1 25 
1 60 
1 00 
1 25 
1 00 
0 60 
0 60 
1 25 
1 00 


9 


THROUGH THE DESERT. Sienkiewicz. nei, l 35 

TRAINING OF SILAS. Devine, S.T. .1 25 

TRUE STORY OF MASTER GERARD, THE. Sadlier. 1 25 

TURN OF THE TIDE. THE. Gray. 0 50 

UNBIDDEN GUEST. THE. Cooke. 0 50 

UNRAVELING OF A TANGLE, THE. Taggart. 1 25 

UP IN ARDMUIRLAND. Barrett. net, 1 25 

VOCATION OF EDWARD CCTNWAY, THE. Egan. 1 25 

WARGRAVE TRUST, THE. Reid. 1 25 

WAY THAT LED BEYOND, THE. Harrkon. 1 25 

WEDDING BELLS OF GLENDALOUGH, THE. Earls, net, 1 35 
WHEN LOVE IS STRONG. Keon. 1 25 

WOMAN OF FORTUNE. Christian Reid. 1 25 

WORLD WELL LOST, THE. Robertson. 0 75 


JUVENILES. 


ALTHEA. Nirdlinger. 

ADVENTURE WITH THE APACHES, AN. Ferry. 
AS GOLD IN THE FURNACE. Copus. 

AS TRUE AS GOLD. Mannix. 

BELL FOUNDRY. THE. Schaching. 

BERKLEYS, THE. Wight. 

BEST FOOT FORWARD, THE. Finn. 

BETWEEN FRIENDS. Aumerle. 

BISTOURI. Melandri. 

BLISSYLVANIA POST-OFFICE, THE. Taggart. 
BOB-O’-LINK. Waggaman. 

BROWNIE AND I. Aumerle. 

BUNT AND BILL. C. Mulholland. 

BY BRANSCOME RIVER. Taggart. 

CAPTAIN TED. Waggaman. 

CAVE BY THE BEECH FORK. THE. Spalding. 
CHARLIE CHITTYWICK. Bearne. 

CHILDREN OF CUPA. Mannix. 

CHILDREN OF THE LOG CABIN. Delamare. 
CLARE LORAINE. “Lee.” 

CLAUDE LIGHTFOOT. Finn. 

COLLEGE BOY, A. Yorke. 

CUPA REVISITED. Mannix. 

DADDY DAN. Waggaman. 

DEAR FRIENDS. Nirdlinger. 

DIMPLING’S SUCCESS. C. Mulholland. 

DOLLAR HUNT, THE. E. C. Martin. 

ETHELRED PRESTON. Finn. 

EVERY-DAY GIRL, AN. Crowley. 

FAIRY OF THE SNOWS, THE. Finn, S.J. 

FIVE O’CLOCK STORIES. 

FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. Egan. 

FOR THE WHITE ROSE. Hinkson. 

FREDDY CARR’S ADVENTURES. Garrold. 
FREDDY CARR AND HIS FRIENDS. Garrold. 
FRED’S LITTLE DAUGHTER. S. T. Smith. 
GOLDEN LILY, THE. Hinkson. 

GREAT CAPTAIN, THE. Hinkson. 

GUILD BOYS OF RIDINGDALE. Bearne, S.J. 
HALDEMAN children, the. Mannix. 
HARMONY FLATS. Whitmire, 
harry dee. Finn, S.J. 

HARRY RUSSELL. Copus. S.J. 

HEIR OF DREAMS, AN. O’Malley. 

his FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. Finn, S.J. 

10 


0 60 
0 45 
0 85 
0 45 
0 45 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 45 
0 45 
0 85 
0 45 
0 45 
0 60 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 45 
0 60 
0 45 
0 45 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 50 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 45 
0 45 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 

0 45 

1 00 


Sadlier. 

Barton. 

Sadlier. 


HOSTAGE OF WAR. Bonesteel. 

HOW THEY WORKED THEIR WAY. Egan. 

IN QUEST OF THE GOLDEN CHEST. Barton. 

“JACK.” 

JACK HILDRETH ON THE NILE. Taggart. 

JACK O’LANTERN. Waggaman. 

JUNIORS OF ST. BEDE’S. Bryson. 

JUVENILE ROUND TABLE. First Series. 

JUVENILE ROUND TABLE. Second Series. 

JUVENILE ROUND TABLE. Third Series. 

KLONDIKE PICNIC, A. Donnelly. 

LEGENDS AND STORIES OF THE CHILD JESUS 
FROM MANY LANDS. Lutz. 

LITTLE APOSTLE ON CRUTCHES, THE. Delamare. 
LITTLE GIRL FROM BACK EAST, THE. Roberts. 

LITTLE MARSHALLS AT THE LAKE. Nixon-Roulet. 
LITTLE MISSY. Waggaman. 

LOYAL BLUE AND ROYAL SCARLET. Taggart. 
MADCAP SET AT ST. ANNE’S. THE, Brunowe. 

MAKING OF MORTLAKE, THE. Copus, S.J. 

MARKS OF THE BEAR CLAWS, THE. Spalding, S.J. 
MARY TRACY’S FORTUNE. Sadlier. 

MELOR OF THE SILVER HAND. Bearne, S.J. 

MILLY AVELING. S. T. Smith. 

MORE FIVE O’CLOCK STORIES. 

MOSTLY BOYS. Finn, S.J. 

MYSTERIOUS DOORWA\’\ THE. 

MYSTERY OF CLEVERLY, THE. 

MYSTERY OF HORNBY HALL, THE. 

NAN NOBODY. Waggaman. 

NED RIEDER. Wehs. 

NEW BOYS AT RIDINGDALE. THE. Bearne, S.J. 

NEW SCHOLAR AT ST. ANNE’S, THE. Brunowe. 

OLD CHARLMONT’S SEED BED. S. T. Smith. 

OLD MILL ON THE WITHROSE. Spalding, S.J. 

OUR LADY’S LUTENIST. Bearne, S.J. 

PANCHO AND PANCHITA. Mannix. 

PAULINE ARCHER. Sadlier. 

PERCY WYNN. Finn. S.J. 

PERIL OF DIONYSIO. Mannix. 

PETRONILLA, AND OTHER STORIES. 

PICKLE AND PEPPER. Dorsey. 

PILGRIM FROM IRELAND, A. Carnot. 

PLAYWATER PLOT. Waggaman. 

POVERINA. Buckenham. 

QUEEN’S PAGE, THE. Hinkson, 

QUEEN’S PRQMISE, THE. Waggaman. 

RACE FQR CQPPER ISLAND, THE. Spalding, S.J. 
RECRUIT TOMMY COLLINS. Bonesteel. 

RIDINGDALE FLOWER SHOW. Bearne, S.J. 

ROMANCE OF THE SILVER SHOON. Bearne, S.J. 
SEA-GULLS’ ROCK, THE. Sandeau. 

SEVEN LITTLE MARSHALLS, THE. Nixon-Roulet. 
SHADOWS LIFTED. Copus, S.J. 

SHEER PLUCK. Bearne, S.J. o 

SHERIFF OF THE BEECH FORK, THE. Spalding, S.J. 
ST. CUTHBERT’S. Copus, S.J. 

.STRONG-ARM . OF AVALON. Waggaman. 

SUGAR-CAMP AND AFTER, THE. Spalding, S.J. 
SUMMER AT WOODVILLE, A. Sadlier. 

TaK and LEG]&IDS OF THE MIDDLE AGES. Capella. 
TALISMAN. THE. Sadlier. 


Donnelly. 


0 45 

0 85 

1 15 
0 45 
0 85 
0 45 

0 85 

1 00 
1 00 
1 00 
0 85 

0 50 
0 45 
0 45 
0 60 
0 45 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 4.5 
0 85 
0 85 
0 60 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 45 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 60 
0 85 
0 45 
0 60 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 46 
0 50 
0 60 


TAMING OF POLLY, THE. Dorsey. 0 85 

THAT FOOTBALL GAME. Finn, S.J. 0 85 

THREE GIRLS AND ESPECIALLY ONE. Taggart. 0 45 

TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. Mother Salome. 0 85 

TOM LOSELY: BOY. Copus, S.J. 0 85 

TOM’S LUCK-POT. Waggaman. 0 45 

TOM PLAYFAIR. Finn, S.J. 0 85 

TOORALLADDY. Walsh. 0 45 

TRANSPLANTING OF TESSIE, THE. Waggaman. 0 60 

TREASURE OF NUGGET MOUNTAIN, THE. Taggart. 0 85 

TWO LITTLE GIRLS. Mack. 0 45 

VIOLIN-MAKER OF MITTENWALD, THE. Schachino. 0 45 

WAYWARD WINIFRED. Sadlier. 0 85 

WINNETOU, THE APACHE KNIGHT. Taggart. 0 85 

WITCH OF RIDINGDALE, THE. Bearne, S.J. 0 85 

YOUNG COLOR GUARD, THE. Bonesteel. 0 45 


BENZIGER’S STANDARD FIFTY-CENT LIBRARY FOR 
EVERYBODY 

Novels and Religious Books by the best Catholic Authors. Copy- 
right books. Substantially and attractively bound in cloth. Complete 
list of books in library sent on application. Each volume, $0. 50. 

^ CATHOLIC LIBRARIES 

Books of Religious Instruction, Novels, and Juveniles, put up in 
libraries of 10, 12, and 20 volumes, at $10.00, $12.00, and $15.00. 
Payable on the Easy Payment Plan of $1.00 down and $1.00 a month. 
List of libraries sent on application. 

SCHOOL BOOKS 

Catechisms, Readers (The Catholic National Readers, The New 
Century Readers), Charts, Spellers, Grammar, Bible History, United 
States Histories, Benziger’s Advanced Geography, Benziger’s Ele- 
mentary Geography, Graded Arithmetics, Three-Book Series of Arith- 
metics, Hymnbook, etc., etc. Complete list sent on application. 


PRAYER-BOOKS 

Complete illustrated catalogue will be sent on application. 

Sizes of books in inches: 48mo, about 3)4 x 2)4; large 48mo, about 
4x2%; small 32mo, about 4)4x3; 32mo, about 4)4x3%; oblong 
32^, about 5% 3c3%; 24mo, about 5%x3)4; oblong 24mo, about 
6%x3%; l6mo, about 6%x4%; small l2mo, 7x6, 


FATHER LASANCE’S PRAYER-BOOKS 


MY PRAYER-BOOK: HAPPINESS IN GOOD- 
NESS. Reflections, Counsels, Prayers and De- 
votions. 16mo. 

MY PRAYER-BOOK. India Paper edition. 16mo. 

MY PRAYER-BOOK. India Paper edition. With 
Epistles and Gospels. 16mo. 

BLESSED SACRAMENT BOOK. Offers a larger 
and greater variety of prayers than any other 
book in English. Large 16mo. 

WITH GOD. A Book of Prayers and Reflections. 
16mo. 

THE YOUNG MAN’S GUIDE. For manly boys 
and young men. Oblong 24mo. 

12 


Cloth. 
1 25 


1 50 
1 26 
0 76 


Leather. 

Gilt. 


1 75—2 50 

2 00—5 00 

2 25—2 76 

2 00—4 50 
1 76—6 00 
1 26—1 76 


Cloth. 

THE CATHOLIC GIRL’S GUIDE. Counsels for 
Girls in the Ordinary Walks of Life and in 
Particular for Children of Mary. Oblong 16mo. 1 26 
PRAYER-BOOK FOR RELIGIOUS. A complete 
manual of prayers for members of all relig- 
ious communities. Small 12mo. net, 1 60 

THOUGHTS ON THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. Re- 
flections on tbe General Principles of the Re- 
ligious Life. Small 12mo. net, 1 60 

VISITS TO JESUS IN THE TABERNACLE. 

Hours and Half-Hours of Adoration before the 
Blessed Satcrament. 16mo. 1 26 

MANUAL OF THE HOLY EUCHARIST. Con- 
ferences on the Blessed Sacrament and Eu- 
charistic Devotions. Oblong 24mo. 0 76 

SHORT VISITS TO THE BLESSED SACRA- 
MENT. Oblong 32 mo. 0 16 

MASS DEVOTIONS, AND READINGS ON THE 
MASS. Twelve methods of hearing Mass. Ob. 

24mo. 0 75 

THE SACRED HEART BOOK. Oblong 24mo. 0 75 

LITTLE MANUAL OF ST. ANTHON'^ Oblong 

32mo, 0 15 

A PIOUS PREPARATION FOR FIRST HOLY 

COMMUNION. 16mo. 0 75 


PRAYER-BOOKS FOR GENERAL USE 


ALL FOR JESUS. With Epistles and Gospels. 

Small 32mo. 0 30 

BREAD OF LIFE, THE. A Complete Com- 
munion Book for Catholics. By Rev. F. 
WiLLAM. Oblong 24mo. 0 75 

COME, LET US ADORE. A Eucharistic Man- 
ual. By Rev. B. Hammer, O.F.M. Small 
32mo. 0 75 

DEVOTIONS AND PRAYERS BY ST. AL- 
PHONSUS LIGUORI. A Complete Manual of 
Pious Exercises for Every Day, Every Week, 
and Every Month. W’ard, 16mo. 1 25 

DEVOTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR THE SICK- 
ROOM. A Book for Eve^ Catholic Family. 

By Rev. J. A. Krebs, C.SS^.R. 12mo. 1 25 

DOMINICAN MISSION BOOK. By a Dominican 

Father. 16mo. ' 0 76 

EUCHARISTIC SOUL ELEVATIONS. Thoughts 
and Texts Gleaned from Holy Writ. By 
Rev. W. E. Stadelman, C.S.Sp. Oblong 24mo. 0 60 
FLOWERS OF PIETY. Approved Prayers for 

Catholics. 48mo. 0 20 


FOLLOWING OF CHRIST, THE. By Thomas a 

Kempis. With Reflections, etc. 32mo 0 40 

FOLLOWING OF CHRIST, THE. By Thomas a 

Kempis. Without Reflections. 32mo. 0 35 

FOLLOWING OF CHRIST, THE. By Thomas X 
Kempis. Illustrated. India Paper, Edition de 
Luxe. 32mo. 

GARLAND OF PRAYER, THE. A dainty prayer- 
book. Contains Nuptial Mass. 32mo. 

GOLDEN KEY TO HEAVEN. With Epistles and 

Gospels. Small 32mo. 0 80 


Leather. 

Gilt. 

1 76—2 60 

2 50—3 60 
2 50 

1 75—2 76 

1 26 
0 60 

1 25 
1 26 

0 60 

1 26 


0 40—4 60 

1 25 
1 25 

1 75 


1 60—2 00 
0 90 

0 30—3 26 
0 60—2 00 

0 65—1 76 

1 26—3 76 
1 25—4 50 
0 60—1 80 


Cloth. 

HELP FOR THE POOR SOULS INT PURGA- 
TORY. By Jos. Ackermann. Small 32mo. 0 60 

HOLY HOUR OF ADORATION, THE. By 

Right Rev. W. Stang, D.D. Oblong 24mo. 0 60 

IMITATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. After 
the model of the “Imitation of Christ.” 


Small 32mo. 0 60 

IMITATION OF THE SACRED HEART OF 

TESUS. By Rev. Arnoudt, S.J. 16mo. net, 1 25 
INTRODUCTION TO A DEVOUT LIFE. By 

St. Francis de Sales. Small 32mo. 0 50 

KEY OF HEAVEN, THE. With Epistles and 

Gospels. 48mo. 0 25 

LITTLE MASS BOOK. By Right Rev. Mgr. J. 

S. M. Lynch. Paper. 32mo. 0 05 

MANUAL OF THE HOLY NAME. 24mo. 0 50 

MANUAL OF THE SACRED HEART, NEW. 

Oblong 24mo. 0 35 

MANUAL OF ST. ANTHONY, NEW. 32mo. 0 50 

MANUAL OF ST. JOSEPH, LITTLE. By Right 

Rev. Mgr. A. A. Lings. Oblong 32mo. 0 15 

MISSION-BOOK FOR THE MARRIED. By 

Rev. F. Girardey, C.SS.R. 32mo. 0 50 

MISSION-BOOK FOR THE SINGLE. By Rev. 

F. Girardey, C.SS.R. 32mo. 0 50 

MISSION-BOOK OF THE REDEMPTORIST 

FATHERS, THE. 32mo. 0 50 

MISSION REMEMBRANCE OF THE REDEMP- 
TORIST FATHERS. By Rev. P. Geier- 
MANN. 32mo. 0 50 

OFFICE OF THE HOLY WEEK, COMPLETE. 

16mo. 0 45 

OUR FAVORITE DEVOTIONS. By Right Rev. 

Mgr. a. a. Lings. Oblong 24mo. 0 75 


OUR FAVORITE DEVOTIONS. By Right Rev. 
Mgr. a. a. Lings. India Paper edition. Ob- 
long 24mo. 

OUR FAVORITE NOVENAS. By Right Rev. 


Mgr. a. a. Lings. Oblong 24mo. 0 75 

OUR FAVORITE NOVENAS. By Right Rev. 

Mgr. a. a. Lings. India Paper edition. Ob- 
long 24mo. 

OUR MONTHLY DEVOTIONS. By Right Rev. 

Mgr. a. a. Lings. 16mo. 1 26 

PEARLS OF PRAYER. The tiniest prayer-book 

published. Measures only 1^4x2 inches. 0 45 

POCKET COMPANION. Approved Prayers. Ob. 

48mo. 0 10 

PRACTICAL CATHOLIC, THE. Maxims Suited 
to Catholics of the Day. By Father Palau. 

Ob. 24mo. 0 60 

PRACTICAL CATHOLIC, THE. Maxims Suited 
to Catholics of the Day. By Father Palau. 

India Paper edition with illustrations. Ob- 
long 24mo. 

SERAPHIC GTUIDE, THE. 24mo. 0 60 


VEST-POCKET GEMS OF DEVOTION. Oblong 

32mo. 0 20 

VEST-POCKET GEMS OF DEVOTION. With 
Epistles and Gospels. Oblong 32mo. 0 25 

14 


Leather. 

Gilt. 

1 00 

0 90 

1 00 
1 76 
1 00 

0 40—6 00 

1 10 

0 75—1 86 

0 75 

0 60 

1 00 
1 00 
1 00 

1 00—1 60 

0 90—1 10 

1 20 

1 50—2 50 
1 20 

1 60—2 50 

2 00 

0 60—2 25 

0 25—1 00 

1 00—1 60 

1 25—3 00 
0 76 

0 35—3 00 
0 60—4 50 


VISITS TO THE MOST HOLY SACRAMENT 
AND TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY. 

By St. Alphonsus Liguori. 32mo. 

PRAYER-BOOKS WITH LARGE TYPE 

KEY OF HEAVEN. With Epistles and Gospels. 

24mo. 

KEY OF HEAVEN. Epistles and Gospels. 32mo. 
POCKET MANUAL. Epistles and Gospels. Ob- 
long 32mo. 

WAY TO HEAVEN, THE. Contains many indul- 


MUNICANTS 

BOYS’ AND GIRLS’ MISSION-BOOK Large 
48mo. 

BREAD OF ANGELS. Instructions and Prayers 
Especially Suited for First Communicants. By 
Rev. B. Hammer, O.F.M. Large 48mo. 

CHILD OF MARY, THE. Especially for the Use 
of First Communicants. 32mo. 

CHILDREN’S PRAYER-BOOK, THE. By Rev. 
P. J. Sloan. Small 32mo. 

CHILD’S PRAYER-BOOK, THE. 48mo. 

DEVOUT CHILD, THE. With 18 full-page illus- 
trations of the Mass. 48mo. 

FIRST COMMUNICANT’S MANUAL. Small 
32mo. 

FIRST COMMUNION PRAYER-BOOK FOR 
SMALL CHILDREN. By Rev. P. J. Sloan. 
Small 32mo. 

LITTLE ALTAR BOY’S MANUAL. Instructions 
for Serving at Mass, Vespers, etc. With 
prayers. i 

LITTLE FIRST COMMUNICANT, THE. By 
Rev. B. Hammer, O.F.M. Small 32mo. 

PIOUS CHILD, THE. With 18 full-page illustra- 
tions of the Mass. 48mo. 

SHORT PRAYERS FOR YOUNG CATHOLICS. 
With Epistles and Gospels. 48mo, 

SODALIST’S. VADE MECUM, THE. Prayer- 
Book and Hymnal for the Children of Mary. 
32 mo. 


Leather. 

Gilt. 


0 35 

0 

75—1 

00 

TYPE 




0 45 

0 

90—3 

75 

, 0 30 

0 

65—1 

85 

0 25 

0 

50—1 

35 

0 35 

0 

75—1 

85 

FIRST 

COM- 


k 

’ 0 35 

0 

75 


0 25 

0 

65—4 

60 

0 45 

0 

95—2 

00 

’ 0 20 

0 

60 


0 15 

0 

40 — 0 

90 

0 10 

[ 




0 35 

0 

65—2 

50 

’ 0 20 

0 

60 


i 

0 25 

0 

60 


0 25 

0 

65 


0 12 

0 

45 


0 20 

0 

45—1 

95 

0 40 

0 

65 



The following catalogues will be sent free on application; 

Catalogue of Benziger Brothers’ Standard Catholic Publications. 

Catalogue of School Books. 

Catalogue of Prayer-Books. 

Catalogue of Imported Books. 

Catalogue of Premium Books. 

Catalogue of Libraries. 

Catalogue of Latin and Liturgical Books. 

A copy of “Catholic Books in English’’ now in print in America 
and Europe will be sent on receipt of 50 cents. Bound in cloth, it 
contains over 5,000 titles and over 300 illustrations of authors. 
Supplements will be issued from time to time to make the catalogue 
as complete as possible, and these will be furnished free of charge 
to those ordering “Catholic Books in English.” 

15 



0 


% 





'1 





























































